Another Inspiration
by Alonea Metallium
Summary: Harry is sent to Azkaban for using an unforgivable to only be later kidnapped by Voldie. With the choice to join or die, and no hope of rescue, he joins for his only chance of success, but will he fall into the D.E. ideals?HPBL R for lang.,sex, no lemons.
1. Weak

Disclaimer: No claim to Harry Potter! No claim! No claim! &has dragonsbreath& Be gone evil Lawyers!

Another Inspiration

Chapter 1: Weak

Harry POV

This day was supposed to be like every other day: Quiet, normal, and dark wizard free. Of course nothing can stay normal for me for very long. Fate insists on taking everything it can away from me. This day was the day my life once again made a turn. A sharp turn that put me at the beginnings of a road never thought to exist. It's hard to say whether this day turned my life for the worse or for the better, but it got me _somewhere,_ at least.

I spent much of my time this summer in the park, avoiding Dudley and his gang, in turn for some quiet solitude. Death seems to rule my life: First my parents, then Cedric, and now Sirius. The Order still refuses to give me information and Dumbledore still replies with letters telling me to sit tight. I also still send a letter every three days to my friends and the Order asking for information I know I won't get, and pretending I am getting along perfectly fine. Really it's just to shut them up so they don't worry about me and end up causing more trouble. The Dursleys have gone to ignoring my existence; only asking me to do a few chores and silently put dinner outside my door since I refuse to come down to eat. Well, at least what constitutes as dinner to an ungodly child named Harry in the terms of Petunia Dursley, which would be small, cold portions of that night's food and a glass of water. For me, this is plenty. Remus of course doesn't say much. I certainly don't want to talk about Sirius and I think it's a mutual feeling.

It was near two, post meridian, on a summer's afternoon on June the twenty-fourth when I heard the familiar pop of a wizard Apparating into my park. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, wand in hand, a curse on her lips. She serves Voldemort, is a spiteful bitch, and she killed Sirius. She took part in this hole in my heart. She helped create this hole and here she was once again, ready to create more destruction. All of my hatred, sorrow, pain, and guilt came out at once into the spell she called 'weak'. That woman told me I was_ weak_ and that to _use_ the Cruciatus curse I had to_ mean_ it. I may not understand magic and all its secrets and tricks but I understood what I was doing at this moment. I dodged her 'stupefy' and I replied with what I knew carried every bit of emotion I felt towards her.

Bella POV

_Great…why do I have to kidnap the golden idiot? Sometimes I wonder if Voldemort is forever punishing me for not sleeping with him. I mean, I may suck up to him a little-_

_Sure Bella…SURE it's a little…_

_FINE! A lot…and why are you arguing with me?_

_Geez…have to get a little entertainment _somehow_ since you never listen to me. _

_I will go back to ignoring you now._

_Whatever suits…_

_I think I am going insane..._

_YUP! Not like Azkaban did anything for it._

_Uh huh…ok...better grab the brat before 'Mr. I am a Dark Lord' decides to throw a hissy fit again. Why can't I just sulk at home and pretend nothing exists? Rodolphus…_

"CRUCIO!" spat Harry and Bellatrix fell to wither in pain on the gravel.

"'Weak' you said! Didn't mean it? I don't see myself lying on the sodding ground, now do I?" Harry ranted.

Bellatrix continued to struggle with the curse in agony and for once hoped the Aurors would show up. She did not expect him to be so agile, nor did she expect to be hit by the Cruciatus curse by Harry frigging Potter. Today was not a good day for Bellatrix Lestrange and she knew that Voldemort would not be pleased with being beaten by 6th year. She did not see the silver lining in this moment, but she would in due time. The world had shifted when one Harry James Potter decided to use an unforgivable curse.

If Harry had any sanity left at that moment, it was on a lunch break since he just watched in glee as she suffered. His eyes seemed hungry for her pain as she withered and scratched at her self as the searing pain swept through her veins. Her body contorted in strange directions as she fought to find a position that would relieve the pain even the tiniest bit.

Bellatrix got her wish after five minutes under the curse with a curious Harry Potter watching her wither her own mind away. She never responded to his comments and certainly tried not to give him the satisfaction of her screams, but they were evident within a minute under the curse and Harry only laughed as the sound hit him and filled his senses with satisfaction.

The Aurors arrived horrified to the scene after being called by Dumbledore. The arrow on the clock for Harry Potter in Albus Dumbledore's office had gone from 'mortal peril', to 'danger' in less than 30 seconds, and then suddenly back to 'fine'. As a precaution he called Kingsley Shacklebolt to check up on the boy. Harry Potter was everything to the war and if he was in danger it could not be ignored.

Shacklebolt arrived near Privet drive, other Aurors in tow, and would have knocked on the door of number four if it wasn't for the clear screams of a woman in the distance. He ran towards the sound and came upon the park to the sight of a boy in overly large clothes squatted next to a woman holding pointing his wand towards her heart as she screamed. The Aurors stared in horrific wonder at the sight. Shacklebolt responded first by grabbing Harry, which ended the spell on Bellatrix, while the others, coming out of their reverie, cast spells around the tortured death eater to keep her from moving or apparating away. Like all Aurors, Shacklebolt knew the laws inside out and being of the Ministry he really did not have any choice.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, you are hereby charged by the Ministry of Magic with the crimes of murder of countless wizards and muggles, use of all unforgivables and being a named Deatheater, and you, Harry James Potter, you are hereby charged by the Ministry of Magic with the crime of casting the Cruciatus curse as an underage wizard for use other than self-defence. You both will be held in a ministry cell until trial and in which your sentence will be given."

Harry did not lift his head from Bellatrix's body and the words of his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher from 4th year rang loudly in his ears. _"Now. . . those three curses - Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban."_

Fate was certainly laughing now as Aurors transported their catch of the day to the Ministry. Harry James Potter; the boy who lived, the boy with a hero complex the size of China, the boy who loved, and now he was the boy who had officially went off the deep end.

AN: Well this is the first chapter of my first HP fic, hope you people like it. I will be posting chapter two and three shortly and I might have chapter four later today. I don't really have an update schedule but I will probably go for once a week, maybe more than once a week if your lucky, and depending on life. Please review and tell me how I am doing. All comments welcome. Beware how far you take your flames, I just might flame back. I'm looking for constructive here!

Re-done on June 18, 2006.


	2. Defeat

Disclaimer: No claim to Harry Potter! No claim! No claim! has dragonsbreath Be gone evil Lawyers!

Another Inspiration

Chapter 2: Defeat

Denial, we could say, was the safest place to go at the moment. Harry was having a lot of trouble believing that we was in a dark, solitary confinement type ministry cell, having just been arrested for torturing Bellatrix Lestrange. He had not even graduated from Hogwarts yet and here he was a criminal waiting to be sent to Azkaban. Being sent to Azkaban was the main thing that pushed Harry into the haven of denial. Azkaban had Dementors and Dementors were something Harry greatly feared. Something that he feared quite a bit more than Voldemort himself. You could torture Harry with all the curses you wished but the one thing that would overcome the Boy-Who-Lived was guilt and worst of all, his memories. Memories of loss, death, and everything that Harry told himself were his fault. Harry's mind was his worst enemy.

The only source of light was the curious glow that the bleak stone walls gave off. Apparently the Ministry enjoyed creeping out their captives while they awaited to be sent to a place of further horrors. They also seemed that space must be conserved as the cell was only 7 feet tall 9 feet wide, and 7 feet in length. Since there really wasn't much to do, Harry attempted to sleep on the cold floor in silence, hoping this was all just another one of his nightmares and he would wake up sitting back on the swing in the park.

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_SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT! Just _fucking_ great! I wonder if by the time I die I will have the record number of times being sent to Azkaban. Will I get another trial? I mean, I already have been sent to Azkaban once, it's not like I need another person to tell me I am going to pay, go to hell, die, etc. for the rest of my life. It really gets a bit old after a while, but they just might do it to annoy me. The Ministry is like that. Incompetent and annoying as hell. I mean, they even arrested the Golden Boy! How preposterous is that? If they put the law down on him then you definitely know the Ministry has gone to hell. Hmm...Potter in Azkaban. Well, if I am going back there, he might as well too._

Bella sat on the floor in an exact copy of Harry's cell and was just as unpleased with it as him. She went from tapping her foot, tracing the mortar in-between the stones with her fingers, and banging her head against the wall in frustration and sulking as Voldemort expressed his great displeasure with her by causing her mark to burn. Bella, finally giving up on waiting for her already given fate, and curled up on the stone floor, quickly falling asleep.

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This was a _highly_ unexpected event. Never in a million _years_ did he think this would happen. All the years of hard work lost to wizarding law. Worst of all, there was not a damn thing he could do about it. Disaster was spelled across the frontpage of the Daily Prophet this morning as Dumbledore was once more reminded of yesterday's events. The headline read "Boy-Who-Lives-To-Torture!" Minister Fudge was definitely regaining any dignity he could and this was the perfect thing to do it. Dumbledore knew that Fudge would spin this story for all the brownie points he could get as soon as Kingsley reported to him what had happened. There was no hiding this from the public and the trial was in two days. Two days because the trial of the century could not be postponed when these people were out for blood. Normally it would be weeks if not months, but no, once again, even in crime, Harry Potter was getting special treatment.

Taking a sip of his morning tea, Dumbledore waited for two certain Gryffindors to barge into his office demanding answers. Of course there really wasn't much to tell since the Prophet made it pretty damn clear as to what happened and for once it was the truth. Exaggerated truth, yes, but it was still the big, ugly truth.

After carefully choosing another lemon cake on his plate the now familiar noise of angry wizards barging into his office was heard. It wasn't the first time and it would of course not be the last.

"This is unacceptable Dumbledore! I will NOT have Harry put into Azkaban! I _refuse_ to have another person I care about to live in that hell hole!" proclaimed a very pissed off Gryffindor lycanthrope.

Remus was not known for loosing his composure very often, but when he did, it was quite…disturbing. Arthur Weasley, on the other hand, looked glum and came for the sole purpose to make sure Dumbledore made it out of his office alive. At least it wasn't Sirius…_then_ he would have had to bring reinforcements.

"Remus…calm down—" Arthur begged.

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN WHEN HARRY IS GOING TO BE SENT TO AZKABAN!"

"We don't know that he will, Remus!" Arthur tried.

"I'm afraid, Arthur, that Remus is correct. Harry _will_ be sent to Azkaban. What we need to do is use what we can to lessen his time spent there and make sure he keeps his sanity" said a solemn Dumbledore.

The two Gryffindors sad down in the two maroon chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk sadly, with defeated hopes of helping Harry Potter, the boy who they loved, survive this new turn of events.

AN: Chapter two is up. Please review!

Re-done on June 18, 2006.


	3. Meeting

Disclaimer: No claim to Harry Potter! No claim! No claim! &has dragonsbreath& Be gone evil Lawyers!

Another Inspiration

Chapter 3: Meeting

Nightmares of Sirius' death plagued Harry's mind in the Ministry holding cell. Kingsley Shacklebolt offered to take the boy's meal to him and found him curled in a ball, whimpering with cries of his godfather's name. Shacklebolt never knew how much Harry suffered from the man's death until now. Shacklebolt was now overcome with a feeling of intense sadness for Harry and regret for the failings of the wizarding world. Carefully setting down the bowl of broth on the floor he gently shook Harry awake until haunted green eyes stared into his own.

"Harry, I brought you some breakfast. You need your strength" Kingsley gently prodded.

Harry seemed to be in a land of his own and just stared into the open darkness of the cell. Kingsley tried again to get a response.

"I'm sorry…but I had no choice. If I didn't, another Auror would…We are bound to uphold the law and sometimes Justice cannot be served. Please try to understand—"

"I understand perfectly Shacklebolt. I broke the law, so I pay. As long as _she _goes down with me I could give a shit less about the Ministry's sense of Justice. You have done your task. Get out." Harry spat.

"As you wish Mr. Potter" Kingsley replied in defeat and added "Your trial is in two days".

Harry watched the man disappear through the darkness and prodded at his food. For once, Harry was not hungry and ended up pushing his bowl far away from him. He really didn't know why he yelled at Shacklebolt, but the wave of anger could not be dissuaded. At this point, Harry only wished he could not feel at all and was sorely reminded of it as his scar prickled uncomfortably. He was tired of pain, tired of anger, and most of all tired of love. None of it was worth having if it only got him here. Harry brought up a wall of indifference and hoped it held.

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"Mrs. Lestrange, You will have no trial, but you will be presented at Mr. Potter's trial and be taken to Azkaban along with him at its end." said the emotionless Auror.

"Why do I need to be present at Potter's trial? I'm sure you can easily convict him, even without valid evidence."

"Mrs. Lestrange, You are going to the trial in case Mr. Potter decides to plead 'not guilty' and to present yourself as the victim." he replied.

The Auror set her breakfast on the floor harshly, spilling it a bit, and stormed out, theatrically slamming the cell door as anger overtook him at last.

Bellatrix looked at the slop with disdain and pushed it away. She smiled briefly at the thought of being the victim for once and was surprised to feel a pleasant pulse from her mark. Voldemort was obviously pleased with the turn of events and she wondered what he was planning.

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Dumbledore was once again in a nasty situation. There really wasn't much to help his case. All they could really come up with was that Death Eaters don't deserve humane treatment, that Harry was distraught over Sirius' death, and to have him plead guilty in hopes of showing enough remorse to make the Wizengamot sympathetic towards him. Dumbledore had scheduled a meeting for Remus to talk to Harry later this afternoon, since he would not be able to represent him himself due to his reinstatement to the Wizengamot. Dumbledore wondered if Remus could handle seeing Harry convicted like this and sent to Azkaban like Sirius. A man could only take so much pain before he cracked and Remus was cracking. Dumbledore tried to be around the man more often to comfort him, but he would not open up and pushed away all attempts.

Dumbledore felt saddened about how the war caused people so much pain, but he felt the worst was how people had to be pawns while the kings fought with mind and power while everyone else suffered. Both sides could not afford to care about their pawns' emotions and that was what made war. Complete indifference to ones own people and their well being. Simply a game of chess with pieces to sacrifice. Both Voldemort and Dumbledore were guilty of this and they both know it, but in the game of war, the king must be the king, and the pawn must be the pawn.

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Later that afternoon…

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Remus Lupin was depressed. No way around it. Harry was going to Azkaban and there was nothing he could do. Waiting for an Auror to escort him down to Harry's cell, he simply sat, glum and full of hopelessness. He tried to tell himself to be strong, to be there for Harry, but it is difficult to be there for others when you can't even keep yourself together. A few minutes went by when Tonks entered the room, in a more serious mood than usual and simply stated for Remus to follow. Remus felt all the worse.

Traveling to some of the darkest parts of the ministry they arrived at the holding cells and followed down a corridor and stopped in front of Harry's cell.

"I'm afraid I must take your wand—Ministry regulations."

Without a word, Remus handed over his wand and Tonks opened the cell door, tapped the side brick three times, and the cell was flooded with light.

Harry covered his face in his knees when the lights came on. He didn't look up to see who it was, nor did he really care. He just wanted to be left alone. If he looked, everything would be real, and it would all come crashing down against his wall, breaking it for sure.

"Harry" Remus softly said, almost a whisper.

This was too much for Harry to take and the wall swiftly crumbled under the pressure. Not lifting up his head, he tried to hide his tears. He didn't want to burden Remus with his problems or make him feel any worse than he already was. Harry felt he had already taken Sirius away from the man.

"Please Harry, please just look at me."

The pleading of Remus destroyed any rubble that was left. As soft sobs escaped the boy's lips Remus crawled over and held him, while tears of his own fell. They both sat there in each others comfort for all words were unspoken. They both missed Sirius deeply. Remus was supposed to be here to keep them together, but yet he was falling apart right along with Harry. Neither one had let go of the fact that Sirius was gone and they were drowning in the pain of the loss. It was Harry who spoke first.

"Remus…do you hate me? Do you hate me because it's my fault Sirius is gone?"

Shock went through Remus as he saw what Harry believed. _How did I let it all come to this?_

"Harry, I could never hate you! How can you blame yourself for what she did?" Remus replied, anger showing slightly.

"But I should have listened! I should have opened the gift! I should have learned Occlumency! I—" Harry desperately defended.

"IT IS _NOT_ YOUR FAULT!" Remus yelled, and then calmly continued "Harry, you can't blame yourself for every person that dies. You're just killing yourself this way."

"I don't want to talk about this any more Remus."

Harry hardened his face, wiped his tears, and shoved all emotion away behind the new wall.

"Harry…"

"Remus, how is the trial going to work? Do we have a plan of sorts?" Harry casually interrupted for the sake of holding the wall up.

Gathering his composure Remus replied, "The trial is in two mornings. We are trying to get your sentenced reduced as much as we can. We are going to mention the fact that she is a death eater, you are emotionally distraught, possibly insane, and you are going to plead guilty."

The wall became more reinforced as each second went by and a look of emotionless mirth came upon his eyes. Remus was too overcome by his own pain to help Harry and only hoped that he had more strength than he did.

"Sounds simple enough. Well, Azkaban, here I come." Harry replied, smirking.

On that note, Remus knew that something was lost in the boy and the next time he saw him, the boy would no longer be a boy, but something else. Something…different.

AN: I believe we are loosing him…heh! Please Review.

Re-done on June, 18, 2006.


	4. Trial

Disclaimer: No claim to Harry Potter! No claim! No claim! &has dragonsbreath& Be gone evil Lawyers!

Another Inspiration

Chapter 4: Trial

As they brought in Harry to the courtroom he could see the whole entire Weasley family, Hermione, and a few of his teachers, including a smirking Professor Snape, on his side of the courtroom. Harry was not really surprised about Snape's attitude, but he still wanted to punch the man for being such a greasy git and actually coming to his trial to gloat.

Professor Snape was overjoyed at the fact that their own wizarding system was putting the boy who made his life hell—along with the boy's father and that damned mutt, in Azkaban. It was the perfect revenge and he did not even have to lift a finger. All he had to do was sit back and watch the proceedings. He was also secretly pleased that Bellatrix would be going back to Azkaban and that her date for execution, though that wasn't a little detail that most knew, was being moved up to sometime in the next year.

Harry glanced at his distraught friends for a moment and continued to walk, occasionally shifting his shoulders in the unfamiliar white starchy dress shirt and pants. His eyes rested momentarily on Bellatrix and a cruel smirk graced his lips. Harry had given up on caring about much of anything except the fact that she would be going to Azkaban right along with him, and he would be out long before she ever did. Finally reaching his post, he sat beside Remus without making eye contact as the charmed chains wrapped themselves around Harry's ankles and wrists.

Bellatrix sat quietly in her seat in-between the two Aurors that guarded her, bound magically with chains at her ankles and wrists much like Harry's, but much tighter. Slightly disturbed by the maniacal look Potter gave her, though she would never show it, Bella contemplated the irony of the 'Golden Boy' going to prison. She almost expected any minute that one of Dumbledore's pets would barge in and take Potter away to hide him somewhere while the old fool manipulated the Ministry to let him off. What Bella did not know is that Dumbledore was very worried. He had asked Shacklebolt to show him the scene in a pensieve, and he was quite unsure of where the boy stood anymore. If Harry was stooping to torture those who went against him, he might as well be a Deatheater. Though, the most probable scenario was Harry being mentally unstable or angry and they had a bad case of an emotional, uncontrollable, and very dangerous child on their hands who was quickly loosing the ability to love.

Doubt continued to spread through Dumbledore's mind as he saw the gaze that Harry bewitched upon Lestrange. Was Harry turning dark or just a bit mentally disturbed? Or both? Dumbledore knew what the Dementors would do to the boy and he was quite sure that after he got out, if he survived the experience, body intact, his mind would be utterly destroyed and who knew what Harry would do. Anywhere from continual depression to too long a time of suppressed rage waiting to pounce on its prey. Either was very bad for the war, and Dumbledore could not spend the time to play shrink to his ace card against Voldemort. Time was running out and Voldemort would soon be on the move again. Without Harry there wasn't much to be done, but defend against him to the best of their ability. Turning his gaze away from Harry, he glanced at Bellatrix, who wore an unexpressionable look upon her face, then Remus, wearing a sallow expression, but his eyes foretold a nervous breakdown in his near future, the Weasleys, all rightfully quite worried it seemed, Hermione, whose face went back and forth from concerned to utter rage, and Severus Snape, who only can be described as an overjoyed git finally getting his wares. Dumbledore's eyes rested for a moment more on Professor Snape and gave a huge sigh as the Wizengamot finally decided to begin.

Cornelius Fudge, once again dispensed with the familiar green bowler hat, and gave a sharp nod to Percy Weasley to start writing. Cornelius rammed the silver gavel on his desk to silence the court and he began the proceedings.

"Ministry Trial of the twenty-sixth of June, year nineteen-hundred and ninety-six into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, the International Statute of Secrecy, and the Decree for Restriction of Unforgivable Curses and Charms of Wizards by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Fudge first stated in his ringing voice, accompanied by the scratching of Percy's quill, and the slight shifting noises of the Wizengamot who wore the customary plum-colored robes with elaborately worked silver 'W's on the left-hand side of their chests.

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley. Witnesses are Bellatrix Lestrange, victim of Harry James Potter, (Bellatrix smirked widely at this), and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror on site."

Stopping for only for a moment to further the effect's of sure imprisonment he picked up a piece of parchment, among the many others, and read, "The charges against the accused are a follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having that all Wizards are required to know the illegality of the unforgivables, cast the Cruciatus Curse on a Bellatrix Lestrange in a Muggle-inhabited area, on the twenty-fourth of June at twelve minutes past two in the afternoon, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of the Underage Sorcery, 1875, and under section five of the Decree for the Restriction of Unforgivable Curses and Charms of Wizards."

Now looking at Harry, he frowned deeply, as did many of the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot who leaned forward to stare and look over this boy who dared to use such dark spells. Harry simply stared back, unabashed by the charges, or the many stares from the Wizengamot, and waited.

"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, now barely looking at the boy over the piece of parchment.

"Yes," Harry said.

"I can assume there are no Dementors involved this time Mr. Potter?" Fudge asked, now fully glaring at Harry, having discarded the parchment in front of him, sarcasm hinting at his voice.

"You would be correct minister, unless of course you are referring to the ones I will be seeing in Azkaban." Harry answered, sending back the minister's cheek, though did a much better job at hiding the sarcasm in his tone.

"You seem to be sure that you are going to Azkaban Mr. Potter, surely you are going to create a story for us today?" chided the Minister.

Remus thought it was best to intervene to the comment just made and he interrupted the Minister.

"Minister, Isn't this _court _supposed to keep its opinions _outside _of this room?" Remus asked in his prevalent tenor voice, but the accusatory tone could still be heard.

Now glaring at the werewolf, the Minister decided to bite back his next comment, and replied with an off balanced "Yes…"

Before the Minister could continue, Harry boldly interrupted.

"Minister, I would like to answer your question anyway, if permitted." Harry asked.

"Ah…well…alright, go on then" Fudge said, confusion starting to emit.

"First I would like to say that I do not make up stories as the Wizarding World seems to think. Secondly, I am sure I will be going to Azkaban since I am guilty of all charges, and I do indeed plead guilty to them."

The scratching of quills could be heard furiously moving across their pages, especially the reporters who wished to transcribe one of the biggest events in history. Rita Skeeter was having a field day with the whole thing and she looked about as happy as Severus Snape did.

Cornelius Fudge was perturbed by Harry Potter's speech, but felt a certain glee rising in his head. Harry Potter was going to Azkaban and would be out of his hair for a good long while, and when Potter did happen to get out his reputation would surely be firmly destroyed and no one would be able to overpower the Minister of Magic ever again.

"I see—yes, the court will make a note of this, but we must still continue with questioning of witnesses. Details you see…" Fudge said, starting to fade once again.

The Wizengamot shifted in their seats for a moment and stared at the boy. Never had they seen someone this young just admit to a crime like this, not even from wizards of age. This was quite strange to the old wizards. Why would someone go to Azkaban this willingly? Was there something else they did not know? Was the boy even sorry? Dumbledore was especially confused by Harry's actions. He knew that they had planned to plead guilty, but this was too simple, too plain. Harry was not even angry or upset. Something was very wrong with this picture and, only time would tell the answer.

Cornelius finally got back on track and decided he better get this over with. He had meetings to hold, people to see, and a certain Harry Potter to no longer worry about.

"Ahem!" all the shifting stopped and a single quill could be heard being placed on paper, and once again scratching away. "Would a Kingsley Shacklebolt approach the witness-box."

Kingsley Shacklebolt swiftly advanced to the front and calmly sat down. Having served in court before as a witness due to his Auror status, he always removed all emotion from himself and did his civil duty to the Ministry. While Shacklebolt made his way to the front, Fudge one again picked up the long piece of parchment that hid his face.

Since Shacklebolt was from the Auror department, Amelia Bones decided to continue with the questioning. No matter who was being tried, it was her duty.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, would you please recollect why you checked up on Mr. Potter and what you saw when you arrived upon the scene on the afternoon of June the twenty-fourth?" Madam Bones asked, staring at Kingsley, seemingly focused on him with her thick monocle.

"I was firecalled by Albus Dumbledore who had told me that the clock in his office said Harry Potter was in 'Mortal Peril' for a few moments while it rested then on 'Danger' and a few seconds later back to 'Fine'. Immediately afterwards I was called by the Ministry to apprehend Mr. Potter for misuse of magic. Myself, and a few other Aurors within the Ministry, Apparated near his home, but heard screaming from a park nearby. We went to Mr. Potter's location to find him stooped on his left knee, glowing wand over a withering and screaming Bellatrix Lestrange, common effects of the Cruciatus curse, smirking and seemingly happy at the turn of events." Kingsley methodically recounted.

"How was Mr. Potter apprehended?"

"I grabbed him and confiscated his wand while the other Aurors bound Mrs. Lestrange. He did not fight me in the least and was easily taken to the Ministry."

"Thank you Mr. Shacklebolt. You may move back to your seat."

Shacklebolt went back to his seat as quickly as he came while Madam Bones now moved her disdainful gaze over to Bellatrix Lestrange to ask her a question.

"You are Bellatrix Lestrange, yes?" she asked simply.

Staring coldly to the members of the Wizengamot, she replied, "That is my former name. My husband died in circumstances I will not discuss. For your pleasure my maiden name is Bellatrix Black."

"I see. Well, Ms. Black, for the court, are you a Deatheater?" Bones asked as if there was nothing wrong with the notion.

"Yes, and it is an honor." Bella replied smartly.

Many of the Wizengamot shifted uncomfortably at this statement and glared at Bellatrix, where a few had small knowing smiles on their faces. Not missing a beat, Amelia Bones continued with her questioning, unaware of the stares or shifting.

"Ms. Black would you please tell me why you were present with Mr. Potter on June the twenty-fourth in a Muggle park?"

"I was ordered by Lord Voldemort to retrieve Potter, kill any present Muggles, which, unfortunately there were none, and present him to my master." The now Ms. Black haughtily answered.

"So, when you arrived at the park you attempted to kidnap him?"

"Yes" Black shot back.

"What went wrong Ms. Black?" Madam Bones continued, still without any hints of emotion or notice of the appalled stares behind her.

"Potter heard my Apparation, dodged my 'Stupefy' and retaliated with the Cruciatus Curse. The boy was quicker than expected." Bellatrix drawled.

Now looking at Harry, she narrowed her eyes for a moment and proceeded to ask him the million-galleon question of the ages.

"Mr. Potter, could you explain to me why you chose that spell instead of another that you have learned in school?"

Harry smirked at Madam Bones. He knew the question was going to be asked sometime and he was going to explain it in his best terms.

"Madam Bones, the answer is quite simple. That fucking bitch," Quickly nodding his head to the left towards Bellatrix, "killed my Godfather, and she deserves every ounce of pain she can get. Whether it be by me, or by Azkaban, she will pay." Harry spat, the chains tightening slightly at his words.

The Wizengamot shifted restlessly once again at Harry's words, not to mention the first real emotion he had shown today. Very few of the Wizengamot knew of what Harry was speaking of, but all felt a small pang of sadness in their hearts as they remember all of the losses of the previous war. The Weasley's looked especially saddened, for they missed Sirius Black almost as much as Harry. Remus though, was quite nearly in tears from what the boy arose in his heart. Remus also felt hatred towards Bellatrix, and for her to be called by Sirius' last name made it all the worse.

"I see Mr. Potter, so your motive is hatred towards, let me quote, "that fucking bitch" correct?" Madam Bones boomed, the monocle making her eyes seem more crazed and ablaze.

Tensely, "Yes, you would be _quite _correct" Harry confirmed.

"Then I do believe this is enough questioning to get an idea of events, Cornelius?" Madam Bones finished.

"Ah, yes, the Wizengamot will go for a twenty minute break, and then they will discuss the accused and his crimes and decide on a sentence. Adjourned!" Fudge nervously announced.

The courtroom was filled with noise as people filed out for the break. Auror's escorted Harry and Bellatrix to new holding cells, which were small white rooms with a small cot; thick, frosted glass windows that only looked upon blurry halls; and bright lights. If you looked carefully enough you could see a shadow through the window pacing about.

Bellatrix Lestrange stared at the pacing figure for the fifteenth time in the last five minutes and sighed. This really sucked. She did not really care too much about her cousin's death, but there was that nagging feeling in the back of her head that told her she should feel a bit sorry about it. She thought again to her dead husband who Voldemort had killed. She knew Rudolphus only joined because of pressure from his parents, but he still joined, and had married her, an upstart Death Eater who wanted nothing but to please her lord. The marriage was a typical pureblooded marriage between the two, but it seemed all they did was go through the motions. Bellatrix was not sure why Voldemort had killed him, and she was not about to interrogate the Dark Lord on why he killed her husband. Instead, she asked Lucius and he said that Rudolphus wanted out and the price was death. Typical of course.

Bellatrix did love Rudolphus, but not like a wife should. There was no room for really anything more than a physical friendship. They both married to satisfy the parents, and it gave Bellatrix a reason to not satisfy Voldemort's _other _needs. She may be a loyal Deatheater, but a whore she was not, and whore she would never be.

Bellatrix's appearance was much better than she was last seen due to the shock of her dead husband. In a sense it brought her back to reality and she had become quite subdued after it. Even though she was, for lack of a better word, depressed, her appearance was not as gaunt as it had been and she had taken time to concentrate on her looks, if only to fill the constant silence of her home. The tell tale signs of Azkaban still marked her skin, but it was not as pronounced as before.

Bellatrix stared once more at the pacing Harry before turning over on her cot to stare at the wall instead. At least the wall did not move.

Harry was frustrated. He continued to pace along his room in hopes of excreting his energy that was fueled by the existence of Bellatrix Lestrange, now Black. Also, his ignoring of the obvious fact was coming back to bite him in the ass. Harry remembered how the Dementors affected him and how horrible Azkaban was to Sirius and any other person he had seen. It did not seem real anymore. Harry wanted to just freak out, throw a few things, have Dumbledore rush in and hide him somewhere, Bellatrix to suddenly drop dead, and a sudden urge to call a certain greasy potions professor a few expletives. Harry had seen his smirk when he entered the courtroom and he wanted to make the man pay for it. Hell, showing up to his trial was bad enough, but showing up like this iced the cake. Harry was in a mass of emotions wanting him to kill, hurt, or just be saved for once, and it was finally taking its wonderful toll. Harry finally stopped pacing, sat on the cot and hid his face in his knees. Life was going to be very hard for Harry Potter, and he had no idea how much worse it was going to get. As much as Harry tried not to think of the future, he could not help it. He raked his hands through his hair again, giving it a messier look than usual, and let fear over take him. Would his friends hate him? Would Remus? Dumbledore? Would he even make it out of Azkaban? Would Voldemort take over now that Harry was locked away?

Harry rocked back and forth on his cot and wallowed in his fears until he heard the thick boots approaching his cell. He looked up and stared at the shadow he could see in the cell next to him and let her suffering be his anchor. The Auror opened his cell and lead him back towards the court room.

Everyone had taken their previous seats, expect for the Wizengamot, and waited for them to file in. Harry kept his eyes firmly away from Remus while he was led, going back into his state of indifference, and stared at the empty seats that the Wizengamot would soon fill. Mrs. Weasley once again dabbed her eyes as her husband hugged her. Hermione sat next to Ron, tears glazing her eyes, and wanted nothing but to shelter Harry from this horrible fate. Snape's face was expressionless, but his eyes did not show the usual darkness. Two minutes passed by in shifting silence when the Wizengamot filed in and seated themselves.

Another minute passed as Cornelius Fudge called for order with his silver gavel. Silence had taken the room again and Percy was awaiting the verdict, quill in hand, ready to put the final condemnation upon the accused. Cornelius faced the Wizengamot and politely asked Albus Dumbledore to stand.

"The verdict shall be read by one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore" The Minister of Magic plainly stated. It was no coincidence that it was Dumbledore reading the verdict. Cornelius insisted upon it to further crush his enemy and to get one over on Headmaster of Hogwarts. Fudge was quite put out with how much power Dumbledore had and definitely how much trouble the man had given him in the last year. Dumbledore cleared his throat and read from a piece of parchment that his shaking hands held.

"Harry James Potter, you are guilty of casting the Cruciatus Curse on a Bellatrix Black in a Muggle-inhabited area, on the twenty-fourth of June at twelve minutes past two, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of the Underage Sorcery, 1875, and under section five of the Decree for the Restriction of Unforgivable Curses and Charms of Wizards. You will be sentenced to Azkaban for one year and six months for your crimes, you are also hereby officially expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and due to extenuating circumstances your wand will be held in a Ministry vault until seen fit to return it. You will be taken to your cell tomorrow morning."

With the verdict, Dumbledore shakily sat down. That was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Battle dark wizards, sure. Deal with unruly students, that's a given. Send his favorite student to Azkaban and expel him. That was a bit harder. Not only did he send his favorite student to hell, he sent the savior of the Wizarding world to a place that would only push his mind farther from the light and further into insanity.

Cornelius Fudge, however, was slightly surprised at the verdict. He had expected a longer imprisonment time for Mr. Potter, but nevertheless the boy would be out of his life. Oh how he wished. Fate was not kind to just anyone these days and certain incompetent Ministers of Magic would not be that lucky.

AN: Wow…I spent many hours on this. I am too easily distracted. Review people! Appreciate your time! I am trying to make chapters longer but I can't promise anything. However much is in a chapter is how much there is. Next chapter is CH.5 'Azkaban'

To answer a couple questions from the last chapter and to give thanks.

**HeWhoWalksBehindTheRow: **Thanks for the compliments. I do plan to continue. Not to mention you are my first review! Congrats

**Demented Reaper**: Harry is a bit of a complicated character. In this he does blame himself because of Remus, but he surely blames Bellatrix more. Hopefully this chapter cleared this up. As for Bella not seeming as loyal to Voldemort as usual, she may be a bit OOC in this and I am sorry. I am trying to write her as someone who wants to please Voldemort because it has been drilled in her brain so much from her family. After going to Azkaban once already and having her husband killed BY Voldemort she has a bit of doubt of how much she really wants to please Voldemort. I can tell you right now though that she will not betray Voldemort in this fanfic and switch sides due to Harry or anyone. She is staying dark in this one, well, as dark as one can get with Harry. Heh. Hope this answers your questions and if you have any more I will try to answer them.

**Modern-Day Zarcon: **Everyone give her a cookie and a box of nilla wafers for she is my beta and I love her! huggles

Also thanks to **Skuld's Sentaro3, yo-yo55d, deathumi, bandgsecurtiyaw, and Gabichicaloca.**


	5. Azkaban

Disclaimer: No claim to Harry Potter! No claim! No claim! Has dragonsbreathBe gone evil Lawyers!

Another Inspiration

Chapter 5: Azkaban

Remus was devastated. Another person close to him was going to be lost to the Dementors, but Remus still forced himself to have hope. During the trial Remus was trying to think of anything to help the Azkaban-bound teen. It was not until he saw Severus leaving after the trial that it hit him. There was a way he could help Harry, but it would require a bit of research. He could not believe that he did think to look for this information before, but he was now, and he would find it before Harry left for Azkaban.

Remus' primary source of knowledge was Dumbledore of course. The old codger knew quite a bit about the world, sometimes more than he should.

Dumbledore barely got into his office for a mere thirty seconds before the werewolf barged in shooting off questions. After getting the man to calm down, they sat and brainstormed all they could. Dumbledore did know quite a bit about what Remus was asking about, but they still decided to take a short trip.

Dumbledore walked over to his roaring fireplace, sprinkled a nice amount of Floo powder into the flames and spoke "Hogwarts, Personal Chambers of Severus Snape", and pushed his head into the green flames.

"Severus? Could I speak to you a moment?" called the Headmaster.

The Potions Master glanced up from his desk and narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore for a moment before getting up and gracefully seating himself in a mahogany chair with an overstuffed deep green cushion inset into the seat in front of the fire.

Snape did not bother to answer the headmaster, but instead just stared back at the fiery form to give him audience.

"Ah yes, I just wanted to tell you that I will be stopping by your private library in your summer home for a bit of research." Dumbledore told him merrily with a twinkle in his eye.

"I suppose." Snape drawled, clearly seeing that Dumbledore was not asking for permission in the least.

"Well, I must be off my boy. Sorry to disturb!"

With that, the Headmaster disappeared from the flames and Severus muttered under his breath something that sounded quite like "Manipulative old goat", but of course it was the wind coming from the window mysteriously disguised as a wall.

Dumbledore got up from the fireplace and attempted to dust off the soot from his robes and beard. Giving a small grin to Remus, the Headmaster gathered a bottle of ink, quills, and a few pieces of parchment and Apparated them both to the dark library of Severus Snape.

Upon arriving at the unplottable home, more like mansion, they were greeted by a nasty shock of electricity as soon as they set foot on the steps before the heavy wooden door of the house. Severus, of course, did not disable all of his security on his home. At Hogwarts, Severus was nursing a glass of wine, grinning happily at what was a sure prank. Dumbledore was also chuckling at audacity of his Potions Master. Remus, however, was furious and growled at the presently absent Severus Snape.

"Looks like he grew a sense of humor for once." Dumbledore offered to the now gone from growling to scowling werewolf.

"Let's just hope it is only once. We need to hurry. I don't know how late they will allow visitors."

"Do not worry about Ministry regulations, but yes, let's hurry."

Dumbledore sent his magic through the wards and neatly sliced through them with ease and they ventured into the desolate mansion. Upon finally reaching the library they immediately set to work and within a few hours of much reading they managed to find enough information to hopefully help Harry, if not at least point him in the right direction. Remus then transcribed the information into a small pamphlet of the most important points and they both set off to the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry's clothes were already replaced by simple black drawstring cotton pants and a similar simple shirt with short sleeves. He paced in his still brightly-lit cell waiting for something to happen. Harry even started to count how many times he had gone across the room and back to pass the time. Getting to five hundred and eight the door swung open, and Harry was met by Molly, Arthur, Ron, Ginny, the twins, and Hermione. Most gave words consisting of "I'm sorry", "We'll be there when you get out", "Hang in there", a monstrous hug with tears, or a combination of. It did make him feel better that they were there, but the pain on their faces was almost too much for him to bear. He tried to assure them that he would be 'ok' and see them all again, but after a while he too broke down into tears and was immersed in a huge group hug by despondent Weasleys and a sobbing Hermione. After a while they all eventually left with 'sniffs' here and there and Harry was once again alone.

Finally sitting on the cot, he began to really think what was going to happen the next morning. It seemed immoral to have a prison guarded by Dementors, where Muggle prisons were only guarded by people, even though the guards were not much better than the prisoners, but at least you had some hope that was yours to keep. The only real comforting thought was that after he got out he could live with Remus and spend time with his friends and the Weasleys.

Harry's thoughts turned to his now ex-potions professor. He would _never _have to be around that man again. No more snarky remarks about his intelligence or arrogance. No more comments about how he was supposedly like his father. No more detentions till late at night for breathing too loud. No more nights having his mind ripped open for him to see all of his secrets and weaknesses.

Harry thought for a moment more of a Severus Snape being tortured and killed by Voldemort for being a spy before his thoughts turned to Quidditch. Soaring through the air, free from life—that was Quidditch. Rubbing Draco's face into the ground by catching the snitch first had to be one of the greater things of life. Despair once again setting in, Harry went back to pacing and counting until, many hours later and on number three thousand six hundred and twenty nine, his door once again opened. Remus rushed into the brightly-lit cell and wrapped his arms securely around the condemned boy hoping to somehow compact Harry into himself.

"Harry, I am so sorry that you have to go through this." Remus started.

"Me too" Harry replied, in an almost whisper due to the lump in his throat.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for Harry. She deserves what she got. Like they say, 'No good deed goes unpunished'."

"Heh. If you say so, and yes, she does deserve it. At least she won't be leaving…there." Harry immediately taking on a lighter tone but drifting off when it came to trying to say 'Azkaban'.

"No she wont, but Harry…you're not blaming yourself again are you?" Remus asked, worried about the 'if you say so' that Harry slipped in.

"No Remus…I don't blame myself for this, or Sirius. I just thought…hell; I really don't know what the bloody hell I was thinking actually."

Giving a small chuckle Remus replied, "Neither do I Harry, Neither do I. Just don't let the Dementors get to you. Remember the happy things and why you are there. I don't want to loose you; any part of you, to them. Got that Harry?"

"Yes mother" Harry declared with a smirk.

"Harry, I'm serious, If you loose your mind I will be very disappointed."

"Remus, you are quite funny tonight you know? Too bad you can't join me. Who knows, maybe we could figure out how to make a Dementor laugh."

Remus gave a large sigh and looked at Harry replying, "Harry…" then smirking, "that is an excellent idea! That can be your goal in Azkaban—to make a Dementor laugh. Professor Snape must have been quite mistaken if you are showing such intellect."

They both started laughing hysterically and ended up on the floor. After a couple minutes of senseless laughing they began to calm down back to the horrid gravity of the situation and sat next to each other in a strange kind of quietness.

"Remus, do you really think I can do this?" Harry asked.

"If Sirius did, I am quite sure you can."

They both sat there a while longer before Remus started again.

"I have been busy today. I was doing some research on something that could help you. I wrote down as much as I could into this. Read as much as you can tonight in case you cannot take it into Azkaban, but try to keep it with you."

Remus pulled out the parchment pamphlet that he had created earlier and handed it over to Harry, who gave him an inquiring look. Harry turned to the first page and read a bit realizing what the pamphlet contained. Harry looked back up to Remus, surprised.

"Why?" Harry inquired.

"To ensure your safety. It should help with the Dementors, not to mention the Dark Lord."

"Thank you…" Harry said quietly.

"I should have given you this sooner, but I had not thought of this. Tells you how good a friend I am."

Remus scooted closer to Harry and held the dejected teen in silence until he was finally told he had to leave.

"I love you Harry. Remember what I told you and live well my friend. You will be out before you know it."

"I love you too Remus…"

With that the door closed for the last time that night, until it opened again to lead him to a place where Dementors did not laugh or smile, but took away whatever hope you had.

"Come on Potter, it's time." Said the man who was escorting him down the hall to where he would be portkeyed along with a few Aurors to a boat that would take them to Azkaban.

Harry was led by a firm grip on the arm to a simple room filled with about fifteen Aurors and a glowering Bellatrix Black whose hands were binded with peculiar metal cuffs. Harry could see a strange deep royal blue ceramic bowl placed in the middle of the white table. The bowl was somewhat large with a strange thin black inscription around it. There were also white designs scattered about that seemed to be blobs of paint placed at random. However, to Bellatrix, the inscription seemed thick and inky, and the bowl was a smooth dirty brown.

The Auror did not let go of Harry's arm, but in instead was handed an exact copy of the metal cuffs that Bellatrix wore and placed them on Harry's wrists. Harry then felt a strange weakness in his limbs, as if he had just run a marathon. The Auror maneuvered the heavy limbed teen to one of the empty plain wooden chairs at the table across from Bellatrix.

"Just so you two know, any magical objects will not be able to go with you. When the portkey is activated, all magical objects will be restrained and drop to the floor here." said a tall blonde haired Auror with an almost sadistic glee to his features.

"I think everything is in order. Let's send these miscreants to Azkaban." Continued the blonde man, clearly enjoying sending people to hell.

The Aurors gathered around the bowl, while two of them placed the two criminals' hands on the bowl. After all were touching the bowl, the blonde spoke '_Bosheit'_ and they were transported directly onto a boat in the middle of the ocean, an ominous island in the distance.

Harry and Bellatrix were pushed onto their knees on the deck and were ordered to sit next to each other, only a foot of space in-between. Harry refused to meet Bellatrix's eyes as she stared at him. She studied Harry's features, despite the murderous look on his face, and found that he was quite small for his age. She ran her eyes carefully over his body, noting his fierce green eyes, the lightning bolt scar that grazed his forehead, and his wild black hair that emitted a sense of rebelliousness.

_Heh. Spirit in this one I see. Oh well,' tis a shame to loose it to the Dementors._ Bellatrix thought.

She turned her head away from Harry to look upon the island in the distance as the boat rocked smoothly against the waves.

_I hate Azkaban…wonder how much Voldemort will let me rot this time. Would not surprise me if he left me here forever, but of course I deserve it don't I? For fucking up the mission. I must really be loosing my touch. All Potter had to do was be an idiot and get himself kidnapped, but no, the little shit had to get smart. Damn Potter!_

_You know Bella…they say to never underestimate your opponent. _

_Look at him! He is skin and bones! Easy prey!_

_There is a reason why he is one of the possible best seekers of the century dear, or did you not know that? _

_YES I BLOODY KNOW DAMMIT! Not like I don't hear enough bitching from Lucius…_

_Temper…_

_Go to hell_

_No, that's where _you_ are headed my dear. _

…

_So Bella, going to admit you made a mistake?_

_No, I do not make mistakes. Fuck up royally yes, make mistakes, absolutely not._

_At least you admit that. I shall leave you to your doom then. Ta ta!_

_Bitch...damn Potter...his entire fucking fault..._

"So, Potty, afraid yet?" Bella baited.

"Shaking in my boots, oh wait, I don't have any." Harry retorted, then looked over to the blonde Auror and asked, "Hey Mr. Blonde, any chance I could get out of these so I can drown her?"

"Prisoners don't get special privileges, even if they are the boy who lived." the blonde Auror spat.

"Too bad for you Potty. Guess you will have to stick with your fantasies of seeing my dead body next to the mutt's. Oh, wait, there is no body now is there, Potty? Gu"

SMACK!

Harry swung his cuffed hands into her cheek with a satisfying crack as a large bruise started to form. Bellatrix glared at the defiant green eyes for a moment before turning her face away from him. The blonde Auror glared at both of them and told them to "Knock it off before I give you something else to cry about" and they were both silent for the rest of the ride.

The boat finally hit the deck of Azkaban Island and they were hoisted onto the wooden planks and led to the large bleak doors of the prison. The prison was bigger than Hogwarts. The whole island seemed dead with the constant gray sky and cold chill in the air. The surrounding trees were bleak and seemed to only choke the black building. The aura from the Dementors could be felt from the docks and all the Aurors seemed apprehensive. Both prisoners were lax and showed no emotion, but they were both screaming inside as all hope was leaving them.

The doors opened slowly, creaking eerily, and were led inside the maze of Azkaban. The person at the desk looked up at the Aurors, brightening slightly at the human contact.

"How are you today Sam?" the blonde asked the receptionist.

"Bleak. It is difficult to be much else here Mr. Fawnty"

"I see, well, I have a Ms. Bellatrix Black and a Mr. Harry James Potter for imprisonment today. Cell number seven hundred and four and seven hundred and five. Third floor." said Mr. Fawnty in a bland manner.

The receptionist shakily handed over a key ring filled with carefully cut ivory keys to Mr. Fawnty and the Aurors escorted the prisoners to their new homes.

Fear was overtaking Harry as he walked down the long corridors of solid cells, one prisoner each. Some were sleeping or sitting with wild looks in their eyes, but most were frantically screaming in agony. Very few prisoners looked up at Harry and only one recognized him. It was Dolohov, a death eater who was caught at the Ministry at the end of the last school year. Dolohov smirked cruelly at Harry and started to laugh manically and rolled on the floor of the tiny cell, madness overtaking him.

Memories of Dudley chasing him were starting to creep into Harry's mind. Harry was taken out of the memory for a moment when an Auror held on to his forearms as another removed the cuffs. Harry was then harshly pushed inside his seven by seven by seven foot cell and the door clanged shut, the lock making a strange series of clicks.

Bellatrix was already in her cell across from Harry, huddled in a corner, face buried in her knees. Three Dementors glided down the corridor, stopping in front of Harry's cell to stare at the new mind. Panic overtook Harry and he began to scream when he saw their faces. Faces of cruel hunger. For the rest of the day, Harry twisted on the floor, his mind in shambles. He did not even notice the bowl of mush that appeared by him later that day.

Bellatrix watched him curiously as she quietly ate her food. His screams had subsided to whimpers, but his mind was still in the horrid nightmare. Bellatrix had never seen someone so affected by the Dementors that quickly. It usually took a couple days, sometimes longer, for a person to scream themselves hoarse like that. It made her wonder what was in the boy's head to make him like this. Bellatrix continued to watch Harry throughout the night, a small glimmer of pity in her eyes.

AN: Yay! It is done! Sorry I could not update yesterday, it's been a busy week. Next chapter will be "Break Out", another decent length chapter. Also, **'_Bosheit'_** is german for malice or spite__ Now to answer questions and give thanks!

I will say it again, 12 and 6 months is 1.5 years. That is how long our supposive hero will be in Azkaban.

Thanks again to Demented Reaper for your reviews; they are very helpful and much appreciated. Modern Day Zarcon, you are my wonderful beta and sister. I love ya! Here, have some Nilla Wafers. (Beta Note: Yay!)

Also thanks to Skuld's Sentaro3, uten, Reality Bender, Kimpatsu no Hoseki, HeWhoWalksBehindTheRow, BlurryFuture, Mukuro Meki, bandgsecurtiyaw, and Aurora sciliitaigo for reviewing the last chapter.

I love the reviews people! Keep them coming!


	6. Taken

Disclaimer: No I do not own JKR's Harry Potter series. I just happily kill her characters in fanfiction.

Another Inspiration

Chapter 6

Taken

Memories of death and pain plagued the troubled adolescent's mind. Once again he heard the screams of his mother and the vicious cackle of laughter after her body hit the floor with empty green eyes. He felt the pain of his Uncle Vernon hitting him for blowing off the hinges when he wanted to use to loo. He saw Sirius fall through the veil, seemingly in slow motion. He even saw the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory after the words "Kill the spare". As Harry witnessed each memory, one of the many tendrils of energy snapped inside him. Hidden in the background of his worst nightmares, a shadow drifted into the depths of his mind, searching. The shadow floated between the darkness of the nightmares and the breaking tendrils until coming to the front of Harry's mind.

"Harry…" whispered the shadow in Harry's lurid dreams, "Where?"

The voice cut off and disappeared, the last tendril of magic snapping inside of Harry.

Magic filled the cell first before it rushed through the corridors and grabbed hold of all the Dementors in Azkaban. Wild magic coursed through the minds of the Dementors, and loud screeches of loathing and alarm filled the building. The magic forced its bitter rage into the dark depths of the black shadows that guarded Azkaban until they fled from its source. The wild magic, now satisfied, returned to its master, the tendrils snapping violently back into place. Harry, exhausted from the magical oppression to the now cowed Dementors, slept peacefully for the first time in over a year.

——————————————————

Every prisoner had felt the crackle of magic surge the night before through Azkaban. They did not know where it had come from, and few were hoping it was Voldemort coming to break them out, but only one knew where the mysterious magic had emitted. Mysterious magic that even terrified the Dementors.

Bellatrix stared at the peacefully sleeping boy across the hall in the open barred cell in utter amazement. She had never seen untamed magic in this quantity before. She would hate to see this "untamed magic" be directed to a more violent use, but she would hate it more to see it controlled and directed at an extreme purpose. Power to override her master's. Bellatrix hoped that Mr. Potter did not realize how much power he contained—and how he could use it—before Voldemort could figure out how to control him or, at the very best, kill him. It would be like an angry toddler who could perform the Avada kedavra spell with ease if Harry learned to direct all of magic. Some say that a wizard with an abundance of raw power uncontrolled can easily go mad. Of course Bellatrix thought any wizard with an abundance of raw power would go mad, regardless if it was controlled or not. Voldemort would be the perfect example of a powerful wizard gone mad. Even Dumbledore was not as sane as most would like. He may not go around killing random people, but he certainly did play with them like pawns.

Bellatrix watched the boy as she ate her first meal of the day. However, after staring at the unmoving form for over an hour she moved on to staring at the walls or sleeping fitfully. Thanks to Harry's burst of magic Bellatrix did not have to fight the machinations of the Dementors so much, but was now plagued for hours on end with boredom and her own thoughts.

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His eyes slowly opened to the dim light of Azkaban and saw a fuzzy gray blob not too far from his face. The fuzzy gray blob turned out to be the bowl of barely warm broth that was more stock than any sort of real protein. Memory having not caught up yet, the basic skills of survival kicked in and Harry dragged himself over to the bowl to quickly down his meal, having not eaten in three days.

After the short time it took to finish his meal he assessed his surroundings and tried to remember what exactly was going on. He really did not remember much except for a vague sense of going through hell and back, multiple times it seemed, but Harry did feel a strange sense of aliveness within himself. He did not understand why or how, but he felt more aware of his surroundings. He felt a dark pulse of malevolent minds slightly touching his, but they seemed distant and at the moment his previous nightmares could be pushed away. He looked around himself to find the sides and back of his cell gray in color and made out of an arcane type of stone. The front of his cell was rows and columns of magically reinforced bars, though the spell interlaced in the bars of his cell was greatly weakened by his earlier outburst of magic. He saw across the hall from his cell Bellatrix Black staring off into the nothingness as her mind was occupied with most likely nightmares of some sort, or maybe she was just thinking. Harry snorted in contempt of the murderous woman; as he thought she was more like likely to be imagining the torture of some poor Muggle or Muggle-born, than having the actual ability to have nightmares or serious thoughts of something else besides being an evil witch.

Harry looked a bit more at his surroundings before he finally remembered the little parchment booklet Remus had given him. Harry did look over the writings after the man had left, possibly enough to remember most of the important parts, but it was still a true comfort to have the booklet to look over and to also act as a sentimental sort of picture of Remus J. Lupin.

Harry opened the parchment and once again read through the information. Remus had titled it simply "Occlumency" and he started off with helpful hints on how to clear ones mind and then proceeded into more complex uses and ways of Occlumency. The parchment first stated he should find an element he could immerse himself in. Harry first tried water by imagining himself in different settings of rivers, lakes, oceans, and even waterfalls. Water not seeming to be right he tried fire and found all that did was remind him more of Voldemort and the immense rage the man felt. Air was too difficult to immerse into and he finally found himself to earth. First Harry tried fields and trees but it was too many details to process easily. Determined to find an image he reread the small section on the element 'Earth' and looked over what items could constitute as earth. He stopped and stared at the words 'in the cycle of rebirth, the earth takes death and decays in into ambrosia and creates a new being from the earth.'

_Ok...so what exactly does it mean by earth? Like dirt? I think I remember something about trees decaying into the ground and made into nutrients, and nutrients take part into helping plants grow. So how can an image be created made from this?_

Harry imagined his body seeping into the soil of a forest. The dark cool minerals felt comforting, safe even, and the buzzing in his head subsided slightly. Having finally chosen a place to hide his mind from prying eyes and auras, he went back to the manual and read about the next section over meditation. With meditation, Harry could learn to easily slip into his world and reinforce the barriers around it. After two hours of trying to just meditate, not having even introduced his world into the equation, he was successful and held himself in the meditative state until he unknowingly slumped over, asleep. Harry never noticed the ever-watchful Bellatrix as she now sat, contemplating.

_No one has _ever _confused me so much in my life as _he _does. First he lays there and screams for three fucking days_—_not to mention the burst of magic that even has the Dementors scared shitless_—_and now he sits there reading his stupid pamphlet and meditates like there is nothing wrong in the world. What is even bloody worse is that I am thinking about him! I am not supposed to think about sodding Harry Potter in any way except the little brat in chains while I torture him senseless. I am not supposed to be just watching him while he sleeps! Though he is pretty damn cute…wait…did I just think that he is…no…I am imagining things. Yes, his bloody body being presented to the Dark Lord while he praises me for my excellent work. Perfect…_

Bellatrix continued to glamour herself in praise from Voldemort with hazy eyes while Harry continued his work on Occlumency.

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**2 months later**

When Harry had first tried to bring his world into his meditative state, he panicked. The familiar cool feeling enveloped him but as he sunk into the soil he confused reality and thought himself suffocating to death. Now he no longer had that problem and was already learning how to actually hide the fact that he was occluding. He tried to place memories on the outside that he did not mind others seeing, while placing the important ones, mainly the prophesy, hidden inside his world.

Harry mostly ignored the woman across the hall, who occasionally bribed him with sharp comments, and was quite successful, most of the time, but some things she said did get to him and he would glare or tell her off, while she grinned happily at him, which only proved to infuriate him more. The last two months went by quickly, since meditation and training in Occlumency took up most of Harry's time, and it went into the nice routine of eating twice a day and training till sleep overtook him, which sometimes was a day or two before he did sleep.

Another month had passed by and Harry was pretty damn confident in his Occlumency skills, though he would never know until he went against someone, but he did have to admit it was well worth learning since it helped quite a bit with his Gryffindor tendencies not to mention he did not have any dark lords prancing around in his brain. Unfortunately, Harry still did not know what he had done to the Dementors and gave all the credit to his Occlumency, never really thinking much further than that.

Bellatrix had pretty much given up on baiting Harry for the most part and continued to push thoughts of his destruction to amuse her, if she wasn't being depressed over being in Azkaban that is. Sometimes she would loose herself in her own mind for hours when a lucky Dementor got the best of her, but it wasn't very often due to they were pretty much terrified to go near Harry and it in a way it did her a favor, or not, depending. Some days she would welcome the Dementors with open arms if it made the days go faster. Sitting amongst your own thoughts can be much worse than having a nightmare.

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It was on November the twenty ninth when Harry was awakened by the gates of Azkaban being forced open and the many pops of Apparating Deatheaters. He calmly sat up and watched the halls. A few Deatheaters ran in front of his cell, stopped, and a smooth male voice called out, "He is over here My Lord". Harry's placid disposition was quickly broken when his emerald eyes met red. Panic started to arise in Harry as Voldemort gave a cruel smile. Bellatrix was already out of her cell behind Voldemort, and had apparated to the Riddle mansion. The cell door opened, but Harry stayed rooted to the spot. Voldemort walked forward, muttered a quick 'stupefy', picked up the small teen in his arms, and apparated away, still smirking. Harry Potter had been taken.

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AN: Sorry this was quite late. I have been out of town since its spring break and such. Have no idea when the next chapter will come out, but I will let you know on my biopage on FFN. Oh, yes, on the last chapter about Bella's cell number being 704. That number is the room number of my school's not so favorite and very Snape like chemistry teacher named Mr. Palmer. Well...I like to call him "Snapalmer" hehehe…I think he might actually be WORSE than Snape…hard to tell. Anyway, I DID change the chapter from 'Break Out' to 'Taken'. The next chapter will either be called 'Choices' or 'Lessons'. It just depends how long things get and such. Also I have been having some trouble getting my section break lines to show up on FFN, sorry if you are ever confused! Im trying to find something that will work, in the future I might just write in 'section break'.

Thanks to bandgsecurtiyaw, Hiryu3 (It will be plausible dear, just wait and see!), android181, and Skuld's Sentaro3 for reviewing Chapter 5.


	7. Sacrifice

Disclaimer: No I do not own JKR's Harry Potter series. I just happily kill her characters in fanfiction.

Another Inspiration

Chapter 7

Sacrifice

Harry woke up in yet another cell and was greeted by a snake like face that was definitely pleased. Voldemort carefully approached the sitting Harry, seemingly all the more menacing with the vicious grin and gleeful red eyes. Voldemort gave a sharp low rumble of a sound that one could call a laugh, though an evil one at that. Opening his lips the Dark Lord spoke.

"We meet again Mr. Potter, though I am quite sure you will not be…" pausing for a moment to smirk triumphantly, "saved by one of your precious phoenixes."

Harry silently stared at the man, quickly realizing that the only person who could save him would be Snape and even the possibility of that seemed pretty slim.

"The question is Mr. Potter. What am I to do with you? Prophecy is gone. You are no longer under Dumbledore's care or under anyone's training. So what can I do with an ex-Golden Boy?" Voldemort threw out teasingly.

Harry was quickly beginning to not care what happened to him as long as it had an end. Voldemort started to pace lightly around Harry, footsteps noiseless. He then stopped in front of Harry, a bit too close for comfort, and kneeled to look straight into the teen's eyes.

"You have two choices Mr. Potter. Serve me, or die. Forget torture; forget sitting in a cell for days; if you do not serve me I _will _kill you. Immediately." the Dark Lord spat.

Gaze sorely captured by the Dark Lord's he replied quietly, voice hoarse, "I want time to think over your proposition."

The Dark Lord swiftly stood up and turned his heel on the teen, heading for the door, robes billowing like a certain asshole potions master.

"An hour Mr. Potter. That is all." Voldemort said, the heavy steel door slamming behind him.

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Harry sat on the cold stone floors quietly, entangled in his thoughts.

_Why am I asking for time to go over his proposition? Why am I even considering it?_

The answer was there, in nice little letters, '_because I have to…' _Harry did not want to join Voldemort, but if he died, Voldemort would have the world safely in his hands for God knows how long. People would suffer, people would die, and people would most surely not get a savior if he died right here and now. Harry would join Voldemort for the Light. He would make the ultimate sacrifice and play the Gryffindor hero.

Harry chuckled outloud at the thought that his Slytherin side was the one that was feeding his hero complex and it would be his Slytherin side that he would rely on until the war abated. Yes, Harry would play the Deatheater, bide his time, get stronger, and all that waiting crap that goes with getting your final revenge.

Harry having finally made up his mind, sat in gleeful silence, as Harry only thought of the final day where Voldemort would pay for killing his parents.

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Voldemort opened the cell exactly an hour later to find Mr. Potter, sitting in a daze, a smirk played across his face. Slightly annoyed at the fact, he gracefully walked over to the dazed teen and simply stood a couple feet in front of him, eyes apprehensive. Harry, not giving any sign that he realized the Dark Lord was there, simply kept staring off into space a few more moments until his smirk increased and his eyes drifted up to Voldemort's face.

"Guess you won't be seeing my dead carcass after all. I choose…life. Quite cowardly, don't you think?" Harry finally said, eyes and mouth playful.

"Not at all Mr. Potter, but yes, I guess I won't be seeing your dead carcass, at least not for a while."

Both smiled at each other for the first time, an understanding finally occurring. Voldemort motioned for Harry to rise, which he complied, though he did almost fall. Finally standing

"Normally we would have a marking ceremony with most of my followers, but due to obvious circumstances we will have to just do with my closest...associates." Voldemort explained.

Harry soon figured it would take quite a while to fully understand Voldemort and his reasoning as he was motioned to follow.

Harry was led into a good-sized chamber of delicate greens and grays with a huge plush rug of the dark mark. Two wooden chairs with deep green upholstery and the dark mark burned onto both sides of the back of the chair were set next to a small round cherry table.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter. Tea?" Voldemort asked politely.

_Thank Merlin he doesn't offer lemon drops like Dumbledore…might have to strangle myself then._

"Yes, please" Harry responded, certainly thirsty, since they did not believe in adequately taking care of their prisoners in Azkaban, not to mention it was something to stare and play with.

Voldemort did not seat himself; instead he stood and seemed to be concentrating. After a few moments people began to pop in around the Dark Lord. First of course was Lucius Malfoy, followed closely by Bellatrix, and then Dolohov, Rookwood, Nott, McNair, and then finally Severus Snape appeared in the chamber. They all bowed quickly and waited till Voldemort gave them permission to rise.

Harry sat quietly, sipping his tea, waiting to be noticed or introduced. Voldemort finally turned toward him and he was faced with seven astonished pairs of eyes. All of the Deatheaters in the room had known of the breakout, except for Severus Snape of course, due to his status as a Hogwarts Professor, and Voldemort really did not feel the need to tell his servant of a breakout he would not be participating in.

Harry set down his tea on the small table and gave a large smile to the Deatheaters; eyes firmly fixed upon Severus Snape. Harry was quite intent in paying back all the hell his ex-professor had given him in the previous years, and the idea did not seem disconcerting in the least.

"We are here tonight to initiate our newest member, Harry Potter. Due to his status and health I have only invited you to be present." Voldemort regally explained.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the teen and then looked to his master.

"Do you think it wise to trust Mr. Potter? He _is_ supposed to be Dumbledore's little pet of light."

"I am sure, _Professor, _that my trustworthiness will soon be…unequivocal." Harry answered with a devious smirk upon his roseate lips.

Snape only gave silence as his answer while the Dark Lord chuckled lightly. The rest of the present Deatheaters simply stood, stoic in all their caliginous glory.

Voldemort whispered a 'Wingardium leviosa' to move the small table to the center of the room, also banishing Harry's tea, and conjuring a small gold bowl, the dark mark deeply engraved in the bottom, and a long, thin, shining silver dagger, the exact same one Peter Pettigrew used to cut off his hand the night the Dark Lord was raised.

Harry was then motioned to stand on the other side of the table. Harry's mind was in swirls. He was becoming a Deatheater, and it would be quite permanent until the Dark Lord was destroyed. He was becoming the essence of evil and he would have to act accordingly, no matter how much the light called to him. To win this war, the light would have to suffer until Harry could end it.

Voldemort picked up the dagger with practiced ease and carefully slit his hand, blood dripping into the bowl, filling in the crevices of the engraved mark.

"Do you, Harry Potter, swear your allegiance unto me upon this contract?" Voldemort asked as his hand suddenly healed.

"Yes, my lord." Harry replied automatically, storing away all thoughts of consternation and his deception of the two factions, bringing a confident countenance to his front.

Voldemort then handed the dagger to Harry, waiting for him to do the same gesture over the bowl. Harry took the blade and slid it over his left palm, fighting the wince attempting to disfigure his lips, and let the rivulet of blood hit the bottom of the bowl and mix with his master's in the mark. Voldemort grinned maliciously, triumph in his eyes, as he handed a long strip of cloth to a slightly surprised Harry.

"For your hand. I would rather not have to get your blood out of my rug." Voldemort drawled.

Harry quickly wrapped his hand and tied it and then looked back up to the people in the room, ready to proceed.

The Dark Lord then pointed his wand at the bowl and spoke, "_Ego redimio vestri cruor ad meus cruor._"

The blood churned and darkened to a dark red and settled back into the crevices of the dark mark. Voldemort then looked back at Harry, eyes a blazing madness and perceptibly spoke, "_Exuro redimio_!"

Harry's left arm began to fiercely burn as the mark made its appearance upon the previously unmarred skin. Harry gasped and then gritted his teeth as the mark continued to burn into his pale skin. The mark burned for a little more than a minute before it transgressed into a persistent dull throb.

"Let us welcome to the Dark Order, Harry Potter. May his comradeship and service be long and true." The Dark Lord said, seeming a bit like Dumbledore in his speeches.

Dolohov, Rookwood, Nott, and McNair all shook Harry's hand in congratulations speaking their gratitude of his change of sides. Lucius simply told Harry, "I see you are worth more than you appear, but I will nevertheless be watching you." Bellatrix did not say anything at all and simply gave a fake smile.

The bowl and dagger disappeared off the table and was replaced with glasses of wine. Voldemort disappeared from the room and left his Deatheaters to conversation. Severus then walked over to Harry and brought him to a corner.

"Mr. Potter, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Snape quietly, but tersely asked.

"Trying to accomplish? No, not at all Professor. I am, however, going to kill Dumbledore and anyone else who gets in my way. The light will perish Professor Snape, and I intend to be part of the cause. No longer will I suffer from _his _manipulations and carelessness. Feel free to tell the old man of my...regards, Professor." Harry replied, emerald eyes flashing.

Severus Snape narrowed his eyes at the new recruit and walked away, robes billowing. Harry then smoothly walked over to the table for a glass of wine, smiling.

"My fellow comrades! I propose a toast to all of you in the name of our lord." Harry started, everyone moving their attention to him.

"Let us all triumph over all who oppose us. Let us all be strong and faithful, and most of all, let us all be faithful to this cause and never waver in our strength. Death to Dumbledore! Death to the light that covers over our rightful shadow!" Harry said, voice strong and passionate.

The voices of the Deatheaters rang out in agreement and took a good swig of their wine before lightly applauding. Everyone drank and mingled until Voldemort came back to excuse them back to their homes. After many friendly goodbyes were exchanged, the room was once again only occupied by Harry and Voldemort.

"Chanceux!" Voldemort called out sharply. (AN: pronounced 'Shawn-so', I think)

A small female house elf popped in, wearing a ragged black robe, sleeves short. Chanceux had straight tidy black hair, tied behind her back with wire.

"Yes Master?" Chanceux said, quite calm for being a house elf under Voldemort.

"You will take Mr. Potter to his room and tend to any of his needs in the future, as long as they are within my range of permission."

"Yes Master."

"Harry, you will have tonight and tomorrow to recover, the morning after we will promptly start your training. If you have any questions ask Chanceux." The Dark Lord instructed.

With that the Dark Lord exited the vicinity without room for extra comments. Harry stood there, and stared at the place where the Dark Lord had just been, bewildered.

Chanceux was very regal and proper for a house elf and was quiet for the most part and gave calm careful responses in a voice that sounded like a normal human woman's, instead of the high pitched squeak of other house elves Harry had seen.

"Mr. Potter, this way please." Chanceux directed.

Harry followed a series of corridors and halls until the house elf stopped in front of a dark paneled door and led him inside of his new personal quarters. To describe it as 'large' would be an understatement. It was like he had an entire house, and it was entirely his.

"If you need anything Mr. Potter, just call."

With that the house elf was gone and Harry began to look over his new home. The first room was a large den with a nice ruby red leather couch with oversized ottomans around a blackened five by five coffee table. The walls were the customary gray stone that covered the mansion and were bare. The only other thing in the den was a huge fireplace, flames low. Harry proceeded to the door to his right and found it to be a cozy study, though similarly bare to the other room, but it did have a nice blackened desk with a chair, all in the same style as the furniture in the den, and wooden storage cabinets. There was another door in the back of his study behind his chair. When Harry opened the door he felt a magical tingle and was taken to the biggest library he had even seen. Shelves and shelves of books went all the way up to the ceiling. If Hermione was here, she would think she died and went to heaven. As much as Harry would love to go through Voldemort's personal library, he had other things to do. Harry traveled back to the den and entered the door on the left side this time to find his bedroom. High king size bed with black silk sheets and a red bedspread with the Dark Mark embroidered in silver. Across from the bed was a cherry dresser with a large mirror and next to it a door to a walk-in-closet that was surprisingly filled with clothes that were Harry's size.

_I could really get used to this…I am not one for material things but you have to admit it has its perks…_

Harry went through the last wood paneled door that went into the bathroom that was possibly more extravagant than the prefects bathroom at Hogwarts. Instead of white marble like the prefects bathroom, it was a dark green with white veins through it. He picked up one of the fluffy red towels from the stack on the left and brought it with him. The tub was deep and large, like the prefects, and it seemed to have only slightly more jeweled top spouts. Harry had not had a bath in ages and quickly slipped off his clothes onto the floor and turned on random spouts that gave off thick foamy textures of green, purple, and blue bubbles that had a nice sweet scent to them. The tub quickly filled with hot water, though not hot enough to scald, and Harry slid in to the swimming pool type tub, months of dirt and stress melting away. The dull pain of the mark slipped away and it was if his arm never was graced with the deep burn. He found on the sides of the tub little seats with magically propelled jets of water to massage his back. Harry spent close to an hour relaxing in the tub, almost drifting off to sleep when his thoughts became lax. Finally he pulled himself to the floor and wrapped himself in one of the large red towels he had brought near the tub. He carefully stood up, wobbling a bit, and slowly walked back to his room and crawled into bed, not bothering to dress. That night, Harry slept like a stone and did not move until late morning.

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Severus Snape was no longer in the good mood that had overtaken him these last few months. He stormed up to the headmaster's office of Hogwarts and spoke the password, 'Nosebleed Nougat', to his distaste, and the gargoyle slid open. Severus quickly glided up the stairs and opened the door. The headmaster looked up from his parchment, blue eyes gazing.

"We have a problem. The Deatheaters have been broken out of Azkaban and Potter is with them." Snape urgently produced.

Dumbledore gave a sigh and replied, "It looks as if we will have to plan an escape for him before he is killed. How much time do we have?"

"You don't understand. Potter is _with _them. I have just returned from his initiation and I assure you he joined willingly. He told me that he was going to kill you and anyone who gets in his way… that he is going to destroy the light." Snape gravely told him.

Dumbledore's eyes widened and a tremble overtook the old wizard's hands.

"I see" Dumbledore said slowly and then with a little more confidence, "We will have to just deal with this like every problem. When the opportunity presents itself, we will take him. For now Severus, stay out of the boy's way and continue with your duties. I just hope this is a ruse."

"I will try, but I think Potter will still propose a bigger problem in my duties. I will not be safe for long."

"Do not worry. If your cover is blown I will give you sanctuary here."

Severus nodded and left the office, heading to his own home to sleep a troubled night. Severus did trust the headmaster, but he still believed the old man was underestimating the power of the glorious Harry Potter.

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Bellatrix arrived at her home to find it quiet and empty. Her husband's mansion was her only home and she did not realize how empty it was without him. The only living things here were the doxies and a hiding house elf. Bellatrix went through the atrium and up the stairs to her bathroom to bathe. Her bath was not as extravagant as Harry's and she simply sat for a while after washing up, before heading off to bed to cry herself to sleep.

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Harry awoke refreshed and full of energy. He first went looking for clothes and chose black slacks and a dark green silk button up shirt. Not really sure what to do, he called out for Chanceux and she instantly appeared.

"Yes Mr. Potter?" the house elf primly asked.

"I was wondering if I could get some breakfast or maybe lunch seeing how I have slept in today." Harry asked.

"I do believe Master Riddle will be having lunch within the hour. You are free to dine with him in the small dining hall. If you wish I can take you there now."

"Ahhh…yes, I will dine with him. Thank you."

Chanceux scowled slightly before heading towards the den and out the door to lead the way.

"This way Mr. Potter."

Harry followed the house elf down the long halls and big rooms until he finally reached the lesser dining room. Voldemort was already seated in a themed green chair, quietly sipping his tea. He did not look like his normal snake-like self. Instead his skin was smooth and pale, had silver shoulder length hair, and neat silver eyebrows framing his scarlet eyes. The Dark Lord was certainly way past his youth, but he only looked a few years older that that of Lucius Malfoy. Harry took a seat across from the Dark Lord and tried to concentrate on his own cup of tea that appeared as soon as he sat down, and not the older man in front of him. Harry was quite curious at this new less scary version of Voldemort and wondered if the man was as cruel as he seemed.

"Ah. The boy-who-lived finally decides to come out. I trust you slept well then?" Voldemort said, breaking the silence.

"Yes I did...my Lord." Harry responded, not sure how to address the Dark Lord.

Voldemort chuckled at Harry and his awkwardness using the title. Harry just stared at his tea.

"Look at me Harry."

Harry raised his head again, nervous, and looked the Dark Lord in the eye.

"Privately you may refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Mr. Riddle'. As much as my ego enjoys the name, it is too formal for casual life."

"Yes sir. Thank you." Harry replied politely.

The Dark Lord chuckled once more before going back to his thoughts. Harry was quite confused at the private joke his new lord was having at him and it seemed that he really was insane or just very... neurotic.

Both drank their tea quietly until a nice lunch of well…Harry wasn't quite sure _what _he was eating, but it was pretty damn good. He was first served a fruity salad with some sort of sugary dressing, and then the best looking filet of salmon he had ever seen or had and it tasted as good as it looked. The meal was served with wine, which Harry was happy to have and had to make an effort to not get horribly drunk, keeping his intake down to reasonable amounts. Harry also was very self conscious at how he was eating. It wasn't that he did not know how to eat 'properly' it was just that he usually choose not to and just got the food from point a, the plate, to point b, his mouth. How he accomplished that he usually didn't give a damn, but this was Voldemort, and one must be careful around deranged Dark Lords who think the Cruciatus or Killing curse solves everything.

After both had quietly finished their meals they both sat in silence for a moment, drinking wine, Harry still trying not to guzzle it, but the glass still seemed to disappear quite quickly and refill as just.

"So Mr. Potter, what do I ask Dumbledore's ex-Golden Boy?" Voldemort coyly asked.

"Is this the part where I get to tell you things that Dumbles would absolutely hate for you to know?" Harry replied, grinning.

"Why yes it would" Voldemort clearly intrigued at what information Harry held.

"Goodie! I have always wanted to royally fuck people over!" Harry said cheerfully.

'_Yup…another nutty Deatheater…I seem to be surrounded by them, but I don't suppose I am any saner that he is. Heh.' _Voldemort thought.

"Yes yes, do get on with it. I don't have all day." The Dark Lord retorted, obviously impatient.

Harry's grin broadened, "I hear you are having some trouble with spies lately."

Voldemort's eyes darkened significantly and replied darkly, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."

"Then I regret to inform you that you have just lost your potion's master." Harry said, tone switching to serious.

Saying Voldemort was angry was the understatement of the century. He was far from angry. He was absolutely livid. Not only did both wine glasses break as they hit the floor, but Harry's scar burst out into agonizing pain. Harry's head was in-between his knees, and he was doing everything he could to keep from screaming out in pain. Voldemort continued to fume and shout out promises of death and Harry had to endure his scar until the man calmed down. Voldemort's tantrum lasted for a whole five minutes before he angrily sat back down in his chair, eyes still glowing. He finally saw Harry's state, which did not help his mood much.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Potter?" Voldemort snapped.

Harry managed to sit up, though still slightly hunched over, and his body shaking.

"I'm fine sir." Harry said, his head still pointed downwards.

"I _asked _what is wrong, Potter, I will not ask again."

Harry raised his head up and Voldemort saw a trail of blood flow down his face from the scar. Voldemort just stared at the teen, eyes transfixed upon the open scar.

"When you get angry, my scar… it reacts…violently. I will be fine in a minute." Harry carefully explained.

"This bond needs to be cut, if at least lessened. It would not do well to have you incapacitated at the wrong moment due to my emotions. I will see what I can find later, for now, rest. I have an appointment to make with a certain Deatheater of mine." Voldemort said, his mask of calm upon him, though inside his emotions were churning with supreme unrest.

"Yes sir."

Voldemort stormed out of the small dining hall to call upon his now least favorite Deatheater, while Harry returned to his room.

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Harry laid there for two hours before boredom took over and he made his way over to the library. He might as well try to learn _something _before the dreaded lessons with 'Voldie' began. He knew the man was impatient naturally and he hoped that he could learn quick enough to avoid at least a few Cruciatus curses from the man, but he wasn't betting on anything. He searched through the titles and decided on the basic seventh year Hogwarts book of spells. Harry went back to his bedroom and read until Chanceux popped in with dinner a few hours later. Surprisingly Harry did not think much of the fate of Severus Snape and put it out of his mind, telling himself it was necessary to the 'cause of the light' and then berating himself for sounding like Dumbledore, and then berating himself for that too. Giving up, Harry slowly ate his minestrone soup, reminded slightly of the food of Azkaban, and afterwards meditated until he fell asleep, the cackles of maniacal laughter only being heard for a moment.

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The dark mark on the left arm of Severus Snape burned fiercely in the middle of his potion brewing.

_Dammit! Going to have to start over when I get back…fucking Wolfsbane…_

Snape Apparated to where he was called to find himself alone in Voldemort's audience. This wasn't per se unusual, but it certainly had the potions master worried. Voldemort had a cruel smirk on his face when Snape appeared and did not let the potions master rise from his bow, but instead, after more than a minute had passed in useless silence, cast the Cruciatus curse on the unfaithful Deatheater. Snape squirmed severely on the cold stone floor in helpless agony.

"Dear Severus…you should not of betrayed me. I do not tolerate it and the price is always death. I had hoped it might have been a lie, but I can see it in your eyes now. I had such high hopes for you Severus, and now you have destroyed it. Too bad really. Crucio!"

_Why Potter? Why did you betray the light? Death…come quickly…_

Severus held his scream back as long as he could, but nevertheless he did scream, until his mind was lost and the Dark Lord screeched 'Avada kedavra!' to end his life.

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AN: crosses out Severus' name on list of people to kill One down only many to go (nope, not going to tell you guys anything!). Ah, translations! Chanceux is French for 'lucky', Ego redimio vestri cruor ad meus cruor is Latin for 'I bind your blood to my blood' and 'Exuro redimio' is Latin for 'burn the bind'. I used a translator so excuse any bad latin. As for the killing of Snape it was so Voldie would trust Harry, not to mention payback is always nice, and Harry isn't quite in his right mind totally. Oh well! Hope you enjoyed the long awaited chapter. The next one will be Lessons for sure and I have no idea when that one will be posted. I will be out of town this weekend like I said on my bio page, which I use as a kind of blog for my update status. If you have any questions I will try to answer them if you missed something. Ah and much love to Modern Day Zarcon (AKA Whit, my favorite little sister) for being my beta. PLEASE REVIEW! Appreciate the comments. I really do get happy when I have reviews in my inbox.

Thanks to reviewers of last chapter: danielc (thanks), Kimapatsu no Hoseki (yup yup, says so in summary), Evil Squirrelly Squirrel (Ah..I would check once a week…but glad to hear you like it!), jollander (I try…), and Skuld's Sentaro 3 (I try to be somewhat original! Thank you for your support!)


	8. Lessons

Disclaimer: No I do not own JKR's Harry Potter series. I just happily kill her characters in fanfiction.

Another Inspiration

Chapter 8

Lessons

"Mr. Potter! You need to wake up. Mr. Potter!"

Chanceux shook Harry firmly, despite her small size, until the sleeping teen arose from his deep slumber. Harry slowly grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and lazily stared at the house elf.

"What time is it?" Harry asked; sleep still having a bit of a hold over him.

"It is six in the morning and Master Riddle expects you in the Loin Room by 7:30 for lessons."

"Yes... Thank you Chanceux."

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

Harry dragged himself out of bed and gave a huge sigh. Harry wondered if Voldemort would be in a better mood today since last night greatly enraged him. Harry also wondered what became of Severus Snape and hoped that by telling the Dark Lord who was the mole was that his standing with the older main rose significantly. Harry knew that Voldemort would an uphill battle and if he didn't play things carefully he would not survive. Voldemort certainly wasn't stupid and probably suspected him of fallacies. Banishing his worries, Harry headed to the bath.

After dressing in thin but strong black slacks, a tight green cotton shirt, and loose black robes, Harry headed to the small dining room for a quick breakfast and then asked Chanceux to lead him to the Loin Room. Harry was twenty minutes early and took that time to look around the huge room. The Loin Room was well lit and the walls were, surprisingly, covered in wood instead of stone. There was a large wooden platform in the center for, what Harry guessed, dueling, a desk with two chairs, and a bookshelf filled with titles relating to hexes, curses, defense, other dark arts, and surprisingly Medimagic.

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Harry wandered around the room, detailing it to memory. For some reason Harry felt at ease here. He would have never thought he would be at ease in his worst enemy's home and he certainly did not think he would even be remotely comfortable around the man himself. Harry removed himself from his thoughts for a moment to let his fingers glide over the titles in the bookshelf. The books gave a strange prick of magical longing towards Harry, particularly one titled _Dark Arts for the Dark: Volume I, Creative Killing and Torture by Joseph Kline Rillinger. _

Harry pulled out the thick green book, finding that it was light for its size, and sat at the desk to begin reading. He was engrossed on a chapter about spells that were used to turn people's internal organs to mush, how to summon sharp and pointy objects for some _extra fun_, and some that were even used to close an opponent's lungs, squeeze the human heart, rip open the liver, and even increase or decrease the amount of blood flowing in the victim's veins, when Tom Riddle arrived.

"Potter, I see you have found your first assignment." Riddle stated, his voice ripping through the peaceful silence.

Harry jumped at the sudden sound and turned around to see his new teacher.

"Let us begin by seeing what you know."

Harry followed Voldemort to the platform and took his place across from him.

"As much fun as the Unforgivables are, they shall remain forbidden for the time being. For now, let us keep it simple." Voldemort said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "First to drop his wand or fall off the platform loses. Ready? Begin!"

"Impedimenta!" Harry started.

"Protego! Stupefy!"

Harry rolled out of the way and shot out the blasting curse he had learned recently, which the Dark Lord easily deflected and quickly shot back a jelly legs jinx.

They cursed and hexed each other for the next five minutes in a rapid succession of simple spells until Voldemort ended it with an 'Accio Harry's wand' which Harry failed to block.

"Not bad for a fifth year, but you still have two years of Hogwarts material to go through, plus the spells necessary for the Dark Order."

Harry looked a bit despondent at the thought of going through that much material with Voldemort and wondered exactly how long it would take.

"Do not worry Mr. Potter. We certainly are not going to go over everything Hogwarts considers important. As far as I am concerned I would rather you learn to defend yourself before any other magics." then muttered, "Merlin knows Crabbe and Goyle don't know anything besides curses…barely"

Harry smirked, while his master went somewhere in his mind to most likely draw up a list of Death Eaters who he wished were dead, but unfortunately held use to him alive.

"Now I want you to read the first two chapters in that book, along with the first chapters in your year six Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration books, which would be in the Hogwarts section of the library. You have two days to learn the theory and spells, and I want a one-foot paper for each of the Hogwarts books on the practical uses for each the spells mentioned. Be creative. I am sure you can handle this, but if you absolutely need help, come find me. I have high expectations of you Mr. Potter and I will make a decent wizard of you in less than a year's time, even if it kills you. Do not disappoint me."

With this the Dark Lord left the room to a wide-eyed Harry.

"I guess I better get to work…"

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It was on the second day when Harry was finally stumped. Defense was simple, Charms he eventually got (after many failed attempts to do the Bubblehead charm), but Transfiguration always seemed to be harder than it should and conjuring a teacup seemed impossible. He couldn't even get a white blob to appear much less an entire teacup. Harry went over the passage once again and of course it said the same thing_, "picture what you want to conjure and clearly say 'obtestari velle' while sharply moving your wand to the left, parallel to the floor." _Frustrated, Harry began to pace about his room. He really could not figure what he was doing wrong. More than ever Harry wished Professor McGonagall was here to teach him, but it seemed he would never again see her in a classroom setting, only on the battlefield. Harry continued to pace with thoughts of "…but if you absolutely need help, come find me." How hard could it be to get help from his tutor? Apparently the idea seemed scary and Harry could not muster enough courage to look for the man whose purpose _was _to teach him.

_Oh for all of Hermione's wisdom, where is she when you actually _need_ her? Oh yeah, that's right, YOU went to the "dark side" and I doubt she would help if you groveled at her feet. Damn…looks like I will have to ask 'him' or suffer his displeasure tomorrow—something I would really like to avoid. The dilemma of my life…_

Nervously Harry went outside his room and began to wander the halls. He could just ask Chanceux where the man was lurking, but he needed to familiarize himself of the grounds. It wasn't like he had a lot to do. Not having any other distractions helped quite a bit and the homework load did not seem so bad. Harry had finished all of his essays and actually had fun 'being creative'. It also helped he didn't have to do any potions, which would of drove him up a wall, and he was sure he would not of lasted more than a week.

Harry traveled around the manor and found it to contain four floors, five towers, and, as it turned out, sixty-five rooms, though Harry suspected there were secret ones and probably more underground seeing how he could never find an unlocked door that led under. Harry opened every door and took note of what they contained and committed the manor to memory.

Harry still had not found his tutor and started to head back towards his room, but was interrupted by the man's voice.

"Looking for me? Or are you just looking for weak spots in the walls so you can attempt to collapse the building on me? Merlin knows I tried to get the ceiling to collapse on Dumbledore's office…on multiple occasions", then mockingly, "but alas, no cigar for me."

Harry smiled at Voldemort, and was gifted with a small smirk in return.

"You know Mr. Riddle; there is a certain pair of twins that used to go to Hogwarts that are brilliant pranksters. Many wonderful inventions they have. Too bad you never went to school with them. You would have been much more successful in your attempts against Dumbledore, but I am sure you could do so now. Hmmm…maybe someday you could do that. You know, a whole unfinished business thing, unless of course you consider that completely trivial now. Anyway I kind of need help on transfiguration and you know you said to find you if I needed help and—"

"Harry."

"Er—yes?"

"Snape was right. You do blather on rather aimlessly."

"Oh…ok."

"You look like an imbecile."

"Yeah…"

"At least you admit it…"

Harry blinked a few times as they both stood in silence.

"Well, let us see if I can teach you how to conjure."

Harry followed Voldemort back to his (Harry's) rooms, since they were closest, and both stood by an idle table across from each other.

Before Voldemort could instruct Harry had to ask him about his ex-potions professor.

"Mr. Riddle, may I ask what happened to Snape? I just wanted to know…"

"Potter, you really should read the prophet. It tells quite a bit of my exploits. Then you would not have to ask. Also, my plans and such are not for your knowledge unless I choose for them to be. If you must know, however, I tortured him till he went insane and dropped off his tattered remains on Hogwarts' doorstep. Now, will you attempt to conjure a teacup so I can help you, unless of course you wish to ask more stupid questions, since I am supposed to waste time on idiotic chatter, WHAT ELSE DID YOU THINK I WOULD DO TO A TRAITOR? INVITE HIM TO TEA?" Voldemort responded, his temper rising with every syllable.

"Sorry sir." Harry said, looking at his shoes in the process.

"WELL! GET ON WITH IT!" Voldemort roared.

Harry nervously tried to conjure a teacup, but he was unsuccessful just the same.

Voldemort took a deep breath, and make an effort to calm down. He would never be able to teach Harry anything if the boy was terrified. Voldemort was quickly finding that the methods of teaching and telling death eaters what to do could not be exactly the same or he really would end up killing him. No wonder the boy was abysmal at potions; Snape had probably made him a nervous wreck, but that would have to change. Voldemort had to teach Harry how to work under pressure. Finally managing to get his blood pressure down, he spoke.

"Ok, first of all, your wand movement is off. You need to move your wand at an 180-degree angle, not the 135 your are doing. Second of all, the author uses proper Latin and does not change the 'v' to a 'w' for you. Try again."

Harry seemed a bit bewildered at the fact that Voldemort was no longer yelling at him, but then quickly proceeded to try again telling himself that everything was right as rain.

Harry tried a couple more times in front of Voldemort and was surprised to see some sort of white shape on the table in front of him.

"Better. Just picture the cup in your mind and concentrate more on what you are making. Make your hands and your mouth remember what the incantation and movements are." Voldemort encouraged.

Harry tried a total of seven times—Voldemort banishing each failed blob as he went—until there was a perfect white teacup.

"There we go, now, how about we try to apply decorations?"

After another half-hour, the table was covered in an assortment of orange, green, and blue teacups and teacups with snitches, brooms, ghosts, and pretty blue flowers.

"Seems you have the gist of this so far. I expect your essays first thing tomorrow morning before we continue your lessons. I assume that is all. Goodnight."

"Mr. Riddle."

"Yes?" Voldemort responded, slightly terse.

"Thank you."

Voldemort gave a grunt in response and left the room, perplexed.

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_Eight Months Later_

Harry had finally learned his sixth and seventh year material and had learned most of the dark spells needed for the Dark Order. As for the relationship between the two, it rose to a mentor student status and the two got along quite well. Even more surprising was that they actually enjoyed each other's company and had conversations of things besides lesson. Of course the two had their disagreements, and Harry suffered under the Cruciatus curse a few times out of pure frustration on Voldemort's end. As for Harry, he was finding it more and more difficult to remember why he became a Death Eater and almost all of his secret animosity for Voldemort had disappeared. Harry actually enjoyed learning the Dark Arts and most of them really were not that bad, though there were quite a few that were certainly not moral in any case, but probably very useful for interrogating and torture.

Tomorrow morning Harry was to finally begin learning the three Unforgivables. Harry dreaded this lesson, but was also highly excited. He wanted to learn them, but was slightly afraid because this would officially label him as a Deatheater. After this, he would be officially a servant of the Dark Lord and he would have to become what he always swore to fight against. What he always thought was wrong would have to be right. He was going to have to murder and hurt people that he knew, and people that he had never met. It was just a part of being a Deatheater. Harry knew that after he learned these three not-so-simple spells he would have to prove himself and he feared that he might fail. Practicing on animals and house elves was one thing. Doing this to real people was something completely different to Harry and it was something where he would have to erase the difference.

Harry paced around his quarters until he was interrupted at precisely 10:12 in the evening, by a knock on his door. Harry opened his door to find a troubled Mr. Riddle.

"Is something wrong sir?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Nothing for you to worry about. Unfortunately your lesson tomorrow will not be given by me, but by Miss Black, and will be for a few days. You will meet her at her manor at 8 tomorrow morning by Floo, and you will follow her instructions. I expect you to do well and I will not tolerate any negative reports from her."

"Yes sir. Is that all?" Harry responded, hiding his disappointment as best as possible, using his training to be sangfroid in all situations, especially in those of distress. That had been the hardest thing for him to learn and it took him the longest. Learning to be "more Slytherin" in the Dark Lord's eyes had been difficult, but Harry did so none the less.

Voldemort nodded to Harry and said, "Goodnight. Do well tomorrow."

"Goodnight sir, and may your planning go well, for luck is only an illusion."

"Yes…"

Voldemort left Harry's doorway and went back to his study to brainstorm his next move against the Light. Voldemort hoped his next plan would be successful and most of all a big leap for his side in the race for triumph. Voldemort also hoped that with the Boy-Who-Lived on his side that his chances of success would increase. Not only was the boy powerful, but he would bring down the morale of the citizens of the Light and help bring his reign into the near future.

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Harry thought about tomorrow's lesson as he lay in bed. He may have gotten over a lot of his animosity towards Voldemort but the hatred of Bellatrix was just as fresh as the day Sirius died. He knew he had to learn the spells, but he never knew he was going to have to learn them from _her._ Harry sighed and closed his eyes with a resolve that we would turn off his emotions tomorrow for, if nothing else, Voldemort. With Occlumency and Voldemort's "Slytherin 101" training he could make it through the hours he would have to spend with Bellatrix Black.

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Harry woke up bright and early the next morning and ate breakfast alone in the minor dining room. Harry did not think about the upcoming hours and simply methodically motioned what he did every morning and waited silently in his room as the clock on the wall ticked by and arrived at five minutes before eight. Harry went to the fireplace, grabbed a fistful of floopowder and dropped it into the flames.

"Manor of Bellatrix Black!" Harry clearly stated.

Harry calmly walked into the now green flames and was transported to the home of the one woman he truly hated.

Upon his arrival, Bellatrix herself surprisingly met him, instead of the expected house elf.

"Hello Mr. Potter. It has been a while since our last meeting." Bella said, starting simple.

"Yes, it has." Harry responded, his eyes empty of emotion, voice with nothing more than recited responses.

_Yup, he still hates me…not like I should expect anything else, _Bellatrix thought.

"Well, I guess we should get started—on to a suitable room, then."

Harry followed her to a room that could only be described as the most beautiful dueling room ever created by wizard or muggle alike. The ceiling was high and arc shaped painted with a scene of angels and devils entangled in war or in more seductive positions. In the middle was a large white marble platform interlaced with spells to give more traction so the duelers would not go slipping about. The rest of the floor appeared be onyx, or something like it. Overall the room took Harry's breath away.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Bella asked, clearly proud of this area.

"Stunning…" Harry responded, dropping his stone mask for a moment.

"Do not worry about damaging anything. Many a duel have been fought in this room and not a single scratch has come to it."

Harry put his mask back on and gave a grunt in reply.

"Well, let us first start with the Imperious curse. I will cast it upon you to see how it's done and I want you to fight it best you can. The idea is to learn to protect yourself against it and to effectively cast it upon another."

Harry nodded to her, and she quickly yelled out "_Imperio_!" without warning.

"Sit down Potter."

The feeling of a sort of bliss hit Harry.

_Hmm…sitting down does sound nice, but…something seems wrong._

"Harry, sit down."

_Why would I sit down? Wait…I remember this…no…I will not sit down._

"Sit down, the floor is nice, why don't you sit down?"

_No…get out of my head! _

"No." Harry finally stated, the spell thrown off.

"Ah yes, I did hear you were quite good at throwing the Imperious curse. Well, lets try this again. I want you to try to throw me off faster this time. _IMPERIO_!"

"Harry, lay down. You are tired."

_I feel so…lax…so…NO!_

"Harry--."

"NO!"

Bellatrix smiled at Harry but she wanted to try one more time. It is one thing to resist something you do not want to do, but resisting a command you want to do is something else entirely.

"Alright, one more time and then we can move on. _IMPERIO_!"

Harry was ready for the curse this time, but the command was something he never expected.

"Harry, hit me."

Confusion hit Harry's eyes for a moment, until the familiar blankness arose. Harry took a step toward Bellatrix.

"Come on Harry, hit me. I know you want to."

Harry took another step forward.

"I killed your Godfather. I certainly deserve it. Hit me."

Harry took two steps, anger starting to show on his face along with the blank look. There were only four steps left before Harry would be range of Bellatrix's face.

"HIT ME!"

Harry closed the gap and pulled back his fist and rammed it towards her face. Bellatrix closed her eyes, waiting for impact. Feeling nothing, she opened her eyes and saw his fist in front of her left cheek.

"What are you trying to prove?" Harry asked.

"Simply that it is harder to ward off something that you want to do." Bellatrix calmly replied.

Harry dropped his hand and stared back at her blankly.

"As interesting it is to watch you struggle with that, let us come back to it later. Now, I want you to use the Imperious curse on me. As for commands, you know what is appropriate."

Harry once again replaced his mask and nodded. Copying her movements, he raised his arm parallel to the floor and pointed his warm at her and yelled "_Imperio_". A strange sensation overcame him and he realized that it was her. All he had to do was hold on to her presence in his mind and speak his commands.

"Raise your right arm."

Bellatrix looked back at him blankly.

"Raise your right arm." Harry repeated.

Bellatrix then smiled and primly said, "No", then stated, "Use more force with your mind. Try again."

"_Imperio_! Raise your arm." Harry started, using much more concentration on the command in his mind, than voice.

Bellatrix's right arm twitched.

"Raise your right arm!"

Bellatrix's arm started to move upwards, but stopped short.

"No."

Harry lowered him arm and looked back at her, expressionless.

"Good. We will practice more tomorrow, but so far you are doing exceptionally well. It seems you do have a knack for the Dark Arts, just as Lord Voldemort said. How about we move on to the Cruciatus curse? I _know_ you need help on that one."

"Alright." Harry responded, different that his normal nodding. Harry was actually hoping to practice on her just to show her he could, not to mention to exact a bit of revenge.

"Now I know you are probably hoping to practice on me but I think it would be better if you tried smaller first. A cat should be sufficient."

Bellatrix called for a house elf to bring one to her, and an old gray one was brought back shortly after. She then set it on the floor, placed a body lock spell on it, and then a silencing spell.

"As much as the sounds of helplessness are amusing to my ears, cats do screech quite loudly and a bit too high for my tastes. Now, the easy part is the wand, just simply point it at the cat and say the incantation. The hard part is getting it to work. Like I said before, you have to mean it and anger alone will not do the trick. It may add more spice to it, but it will not work without fully wanting to cause bodily harm. Now, take a try." Bellatrix instructed.

Harry looked at cat and saw that it had large blue eyes that stared back accusingly as if it knew what Harry was going to do. Harry was already quite used to practicing on animals and he had gotten past the remorse part. Unlike Bellatrix, Voldemort did not silence the animals that Harry practiced on. Harry pointed his wand at the cat and imagined it to be a bug, a large worthless bug that should not be gracing this beautiful white floor.

"Crucio!" Harry spoke.

The cat only twitched slightly at the spell.

"Damn…"

"Try again."

"_Crucio_!"

The cat only twitched, no more than the last.

"Ok, let's try this, imagine something you hate, work yourself up, and imagine getting revenge. Now, memorize that feeling of revenge. The sweet feeling of giving someone their just deserts. Now, try again." Bellatrix instructed.

Harry looked at the cat, a scowl upon his face and one again yelled out, "_CRUCIO_!"

The cat began to convulse on the floor and twist in random directions. Harry held the spell, fascinated, until a resounding crack filled the air, causing Harry to jump. The cat was no longer moving.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Appears she broke her back with all that twisting around." Bellatrix factually stated.

Harry looked the cat, and indeed the spine was at an odd angle. Harry stared at it for a few moments noting the sweat within the gray hair until Bellatrix broke the silence.

"That went well…Now, to successfully cast it upon a human it is much like the Patronus spell that it takes a memory or strong feeling from the past as a basis for the spell. Unlike the happy memories needed for the Patronus charm, for the Cruciatus curse you use that feeling of revenge. Now, I want you to always remember that and if you ever can make it stronger, do so. However, when you cast it upon a human, their magic will push against yours to fight against it, which is why you have to be careful how long you hold the spell, unless you want to drive the person insane that is."

"Ok, so how do you tell how long you can hold it before they lose it?" Harry asked.

"Practice of course! I will let you cast it upon me so you can feel the others presence, much like the Imperious curse, and you will be able to measure with your mind. Any questions?"

"You said people fight back with their magic, but what about muggles? They don't have any magic and they last a while." Harry asked, confused.

"Good question. Some people think that muggles can cause things to happen in times of great distress. I think the muggle term is a 'miracle'. Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Now, you will hold the curse for ten seconds, and then stop. To extinguish any crazy ideas of disobeying me just know that Voldemort will not be pleased if I am no longer any use to him. Start when you are ready."

"Alright…_Crucio_!" Harry yelled, eyes blazing with the hunger and delight of revenge.

Harry watched her drop to the ground and pull herself tightly into a ball. He held it for ten seconds, and then past, as he became immersed into the feeling of revenge. He watched as she struggled to keep her voice from screaming and he saw her frantic eyes bulging. Finally feeling her rapidly pulsing presence in his mind and remembering that he was supposed to stop at ten, not twenty-five, he removed the spell.

Bellatrix lay gasping on the marble floor; her black hair splashed about the contrasting white, as she took in deep breaths of air to soothe her body's frenzied exigency for life. Her breathing finally returned to normal and she carefully stood back up. She stared into Harry's eyes, hers filled with annoyance, but somehow concern mixed in.

"Harry, I think you need to realize that I said ten seconds, and I meant that literally. At this point in time your control is not perfect nor is your feel of the presence of others. In the future, do not disobey me."

"Sorry…I just…lost it." Harry reasoned, scared that she would want to repay him.

"That is not an excuse Potter. The Unforgivables are unlike other Dark Arts in that they require much more control and discipline of the mind. You have caught the grasp of casting it, but require practice in control. Today I want you to practice on an animal and I want you to be able to hold it for thirty seconds without causing harm to the animal's mind or body. You will find that not only can you see how long you can hold it on an entity by gauging their presence in your mind, but also be able to lessen the power to the point where you can hold it longer, but the victim is still in agony. You are dismissed. Return tomorrow at the same time."

Harry left the room and found his way back to the fireplace. He flooed back to his quarters to brood upon the enigma of Bellatrix Black.

Bellatrix also went to her quarters to brood upon herself. Did she really want Harry to hurt her? Why? She didn't owe anything to the boy. _But I hurt him. He has something that only few have. Heart. Everyone I know follows Voldemort or their own ambitions. Never have I met anyone that fights for what is in their heart and I put a burn on that heart. I caused it unbearable pain. Why do I even care? Have no idea. There is just something about him that is worth preserving. Something good. Something _beautiful_. Something…perfect. _

Bellatrix then figured that loneliness was severely getting to her. There was no way in hell she could even remotely like Harry Bloody Potter. Hell, he was just a kid! But still…he was something better than she would ever be, and now she just hoped that his spirit would never be broken. Bellatrix had nothing else left in life, but the hope that there were people like him. So, she resolved herself that all she felt towards this boy of unique wonder was nothing more than a high respect.

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Harry looked at the clock and realized that it was time for lunch and headed down to the dining area to find it already occupied by Lucius and Draco Malfoy, along with Lord Voldemort. Thankfully Harry had chosen to shower and dress appropriately, sorely out of established habit over the months, and appeared as regal as the rest of them.

"Ah, Harry, I am sure you have met the Malfoys correct?" Voldemort cheerfully introduced.

"Yes sir. Mr. Malfoy." Harry said, bowing slightly toward each of the two blonde men.

Harry tried to rack his brain as to why Draco would be here until he remembered the date, April twelfth, and realized it was Good Friday and Hogwart's students were on break.

They ate a fantastic lunch as usual and small talk ensued between bites of luscious veal. After they finished the plates disappeared and they talked for a few minutes over a glass of port. Voldemort then gave a look to Lucius and it seemed a secret conversation went through them

"Draco, go with Mr. Potter to his quarters. I have some business to attend to with our Lord." Lucius drawled on.

"Yes sir." Draco obediently replied.

Harry took a quick glance at Voldemort and stood up.

"Follow me Mr. Malfoy." Harry said, starting for his quarters.

Draco followed silently behind him and did not say a word until Harry's door was closed and both were seated in Harry's den.

"Bloody hell Potter. Quidditch has been horribly boring without you. Gryffindor is a joke."

Harry blinked a couple times, shrugged and decided talking to Draco couldn't be too bad.

"Yeah, haven't been on a broom in ages—been too busy with lessons. Believe me; going through two years of Hogwarts material in eight months is tough, though we do skip some things."

"I wish father would home school me, but he insists I go to Hogwarts. Says it would be better. Bollucks that. Father knows loads more than that school will ever teach me."

"Well, if you think about it, it is better to have you at Hogwarts as an inside source of information. Not to mention you will be able to influence others, but I do see your point."

Draco sighed and took a moment to look around the room and seemed a bit agitated.

"Oh, dear, silly me, is there anything you want? I can order up anything you wish." Harry apologized.

"Firewhisky?"

"Sure, just don't get slaughtered on me. Somehow I think Voldemort would be pissed at me if that happened." Harry replied, chuckling a bit.

"I was joking Potter…I didn't actually think you were actually allowed to. I sure as hell am not."

"Oh well, what they don't know won't hurt them. Chanceux!"

The prim and proper house elf appeared, dedicated to servitude as ever.

"Yes Mr. Potter?"

"Bring us some Firewhisky please."

"As you wish, sir."

In a matter of seconds two glasses and a bottle appeared and the house elf carefully poured the amber liquid into each.

"Anything else Mr. Potter?"

"No Chanceux, dismissed."

Chanceux then departed as quickly as she came and the two boys enjoyed there sudden freedom from the older generation.

"You are not so bad after all, but this is still mental. I would have never thought I would be having a civil conversation with the supposed Golden Boy, and much less a drink. To a prosperous future, then?"

"To a prosperous future."

With this they took a sip and both their ears turned bright red and both gave gasps and coughs as the liquid burned their throats and gave a pleasant tingly feeling in their stomachs. Both looked at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter. The two spent the next few drunken hours talking and laughing of things of Hogwarts and happy times until Chanceux arrived with dinner to find them both passed out in their seats. Fortunately she also had to give them the message that they would have to find their own ways home and to not expect to see them until tomorrow afternoon. The house elf wrote her message down on a piece of paper and left it on the table. She took a glance at the food and decided to leave a warning charm in case they wanted it later, with that she left them to their snoring, knowing that the hangover tomorrow would be punishment enough.

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At 6am the next morning, Harry's alarm went off, waking the two boys from their alcohol induced slumber.

"Fuck…fuck fuck fuck fuck _FUCK_ she is going to roast me alive." Harry said, immediately remembering his lessons and how he was supposed to practice yesterday, not get drunk with Draco.

The blonde one groaned and rolled over on the couch, slamming a pillow over his ears and a muffled "Make it stop…" could be heard.

"_Finite Incantatem_." Harry finally said, forgetting that he had to actually turn off the magical alarm that resonated throughout all his quarters.

Harry searched a moment and found his glasses in the cushions and took a look around the room. Harry first spotted dinner off on a side table, and then noticed a note on the coffee table in front of him. Picking it up he read the note once, then twice, and gave a sigh of relief.

"Draco…just so you know, you have till lunch to make yourself presentable and appear in your dining room. Seems that they got quite busy and left us to do whatever. Seems fate is with you." Harry told the hiding figure.

"Huh? Harry…what the bloody hell are you talking about…wait, I don't want to know. All I want is silence until my head stops this God-awful ringing." Draco responded in a half-asleep voice.

"Draco, it is 6 am. We passed out in my den. Remember? We got drunk?" Harry told him, getting annoyed.

"That's nice Harry; now please shut the fuck up…"

Draco turned over and appeared to go back to sleep.

"Oh well…his funeral."

Harry wobbled over to his bathroom and was hit by a wave of nausea and immediately threw up in his toilet. After emptying every inch of his insides he undressed and headed over to take a nice bath before attempting to practice.

"Merlin…I am never doing _that_ again…"

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Draco finally arose, and then momentarily panicked before remembering something about a loud noise, that he was off the hook and he had till lunch to get home and appear decent. Draco looked at the clock and saw that the time was 6:52 in the morning. Glancing around a bit looking for Scarhead he shrugged and headed off to find the bathroom. After throwing up his insides, cleaning up, and looking disdainfully at his clothes he said screw it and went to borrow from Harry.

The towel clothed prince headed for Harry's bedroom to find a nice row of assorted dead cats on the floor and a frustrated Harry torturing another with the Cruciatus curse.

Draco just stared at the cats, then back at Harry, then back to the cats, shrugged, and proceeded to raid his clothes. Harry did not notice this until the one he was attempting to not kill in less than 30 seconds died and he set it beside the others. Harry looked up and was perturbed as to why there was a naked Draco standing there pulling on his favorite black pants, without underwear.

Draco finished pulling them on and then continued to move through Harry's clothes.

"What are you doing…"Harry asked, darkly.

"Getting dressed. What has you in such a bad mood?"

"Me? Oh! This…yeah...that...well, you see, I was supposed to practice yesterday, but I got sidetracked with the whole getting drunk thing and she is going to have my hide today…"Harry rambled on.

"She?" Draco asked.

"Oh, Bellatrix Black. Voldemort has been busy lately so I got thrown over to her for lessons. I hate it, but that's life." Harry explained.

"Oh! Aunt Bella! Haven't seen her in ages! How is she? I heard about Rudolphus. She must be awfully lonely." Draco amiably chattered on, pulling on a ruby colored shirt of Harry's.

"Look Malfoy…there is something you have to understand. To put in bluntly, she killed my Godfather, and I have not forgiven her for it, and I never will."

"Oh…sorry, what was his name?" Draco innocently asked, trying to be somewhat comforting.

"Sirius…Sirius Black." Harry answered.

"You mean the guy everyone was going on about in third year!"

"Yeah…"

"Well…something sounded fishy about the whole thing, I mean, Mother sometimes goes on how he is a traitor and that if I ever do that she will kill me on the spot, so I assumed it was the ministry being daft as ever, but I guess he was alright from your standpoint then. I never knew him, so I can't say."

"Was the closest thing I had to family, so it hurt to lose him. Anyway, enough of that. Wonder what time it is…"

"7:46"

"Thanks…I need to get rid of these," he waved to the dead cats, "and get going. Hang out here if you want, but don't forget to show up for lunch at your home. Come by anytime if you like, but I would check to see if I am busy or not. Never know these days. Well, have a good day Draco."

"Potter, you do realize you have just declared us friends after years of animosity between us, and for some reason that doesn't bother me in the least. Good show. Happy times at lessons though it sounds like that won't be happening anytime soon."

"Nope," Harry said, while banishing the cats one by one, "I don't think learning the Unforgivables from anyone would be much fun, especially when _you_ are the guinea pig. Thank Merlin she assumed I had seen and experienced the Cruciatus Curse enough to know the basics, which is correct by the way."

As Harry said this Draco's eyes widened slightly. Harry then sighed and continued, "Draco, I would love to chat more, but I don't want to be late. See you some other time."

"See you later…"Draco responded, eyes distant.

Harry walked over to the fireplace and flooed over to Bellatrix's manor for the second day of lessons on the Unforgivables.

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"Good morning Mr. Potter." Bellatrix chirped.

"Morning…" Harry replied, clearly in a bad mood.

"Why, aren't you the Easter Bunny today!"

Harry glared back at his teacher.

"Alright, what is the problem Potter, can't get anything done if you are like this." Bellatrix asked, now serious.

"I'm fine."

"Potter, for Merlin's sake you look like shit."

"And your point?"

"Ok, then lets do this the hard way. You have till the count of five to tell me what's wrong or I start using Unforgivables. One."

Harry stayed silent.

"Two…Three…four."

"I have a hangover." Harry stated, plainly and simply.

Bellatrix looked at him for a moment before shaking her head and muttering about men and their stupidity.

"Follow me Potter."

Bellatrix led him to study that pretty much looked like a tornado had gone through it, but Harry did not comment. She went over to a cabinet filled with many bottles of liquor and she pulled out a large bottle of pink liquid and a small glass. She then poured the substance into the glass and handed it to Harry.

"Drink this."

"What is it?"

"A cure for hangovers."

"Who made it?"

"Severus."

"Rule number one for Gryffindors; don't drink anything made by Severus Snape."

"Potter, drink it. It's not poisoned."

"I don't drink anything from Snape."

"Fine, _IMPERIO_! Potter, drink the potion."

Harry blankly looked at the glass and slowly drank its contents. Bellatrix then released the spell and continued to glare at Harry, a glare that would have made even Snape blush.

"Now, hopefully you will stop being an insufferable brat and we can get on with this." Bellatrix chastised.

She stormed off towards the dueling room and Harry hurried after her. Somehow Harry thought he might have gone too far with the Snape comment and that today was going to be worse than expected.

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That was officially the worst day of Harry's life. Not only did she chew him out for not having learned what she asked, but she forced him to torture cat after cat until he did. After that she brought out a muggle woman and Harry was to practice on her to further recognize another presence's mind and how far and how fast it would go at the rate and power level Harry was using. The worst thing was how innocent she looked. She had dark brown hair, freckles, dark green eyes and was no older than nineteen. By the time Bellatrix told Harry to stop her eyes gazed lifelessly to the ceiling. When he had asked if she was dead he was horrified to know that she wasn't, but had lost her mind. He had done this. He had done to this woman what she had done to the Longbottoms. Bellatrix then asked Harry to kill her using the Killing Curse. It took him a total of seventeen tries before the spell succeeded and she was dead. It was late before he was allowed to leave and he was never allowed a break during the whole entire session. As much as Harry knew he should eat when he collapsed in his bed that night, he just couldn't. Bellatrix had made him a murderer. It was something he could never take back and it was something he would have to do again. In all the eight months Harry had been a Deatheater, he had been blissfully ignorant. Harry could no longer ignore what being a Deatheater really meant, and suddenly Harry thought back to the dark filled day when he reasoned that he could join Voldemort's ranks and everything would be easy. What had he been thinking? Words of Severus Snape once again came into his mind and he realized that the man was right. Harry was naïve. A newfound respect replaced the long placed hate he felt for Snape. The man may have been hard on him, but Harry wanted his memory to be greater than 'just a sacrifice'.

Harry finally closed his eyes to find escape but he could not sleep through the haunted helpless screams and the lifeless eyes that stared at such a beautiful ceiling. Harry dreaded the morning, for he would have to go back. Back to _her._ Back where the screaming would be reality.

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AN: Well, that ending was a bundle of joy. Again, so sorry for the wait. It is summer now and I will have much more time to work on this though I might be leaving sometime next week. Please review and be prepared for a much darker version of Harry for a while. Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and I would name everyone but I am much too tired to look. Also, Whit (Moderndayzarcon), could not of done this without you. I give you Nilla Wafers and Ginger Snaps. Love ya sis! Next chapter is…oh what was I going to call that thing…oh yeah, 'Raids'. Night everyone.

NOTE: 135-degrees is 45 to the left in case you are confused. Also, sorry about the Regulus mistake. Already fixed it. I had deleted his name in the first spot but forgot to delete it in the second. Silly me.


	9. Raids

Disclaimer: No I do not own JKR's Harry Potter series. Though I would very much like to own parts of Voldiekins…-giggle-

Another Inspiration

Chapter 9

Raids

AN: The POVs change quite a bit in this chapter to show things happening around the scenes. I hope you don't get confused. I did put section breaks between the changes and labeled the sections with setting changes. Also, as for HBP spoilers, there will be none concerning the plot of the book. Only spells as far as I can see I will be using. Also, any new stuff in HBP that would interfere with my fanfic will be IGNORED. And gosh….my beta told me she would not be able to look it over till Saturday, so I got one of my friends to look it over, and then she told me that she was looking it over. So this is twice looked over! Neato! Thanks Smitty!

"Harry…how do I get out?" the shadow called out into his dreams before once again disappearing behind the tendrils.

It had been two more days of training with Bellatrix Black before he returned to Voldemort deeply worn down from emotional disaster and lack of sleep. Harry spent many hours a night reliving the screams of _them_ and it was breaking him. Today was Sunday (the last day with Bellatrix being Monday) and Harry eagerly took another energy potion before meeting his master and burying his emotions deep within himself.

Voldemort did not know Harry had not been sleeping and had only heard from Bellatrix that he had learned them well and did not seem to have any problems. But under the surface of it all, Harry did have a problem; a very serious problem that could never be resolved by his solitary self. For Harry to be capable of murder, he would have to be silent and resign himself to evil. He would have to build a stone wall around the part of himself that held honour and morality above all else and while the rest of him boiled into a machine.

"Damn dreams…" Harry muttered as he arose from his sleep. His head buzzed with weariness and the darkness that still grappled at his mind. This was the second time he had had this voice calling out and it only added to the confusion of life. Strange thing was it just cut in his sleeping head, even in the middle of a nightmare.

Harry got out of bed and headed to the bath, but was interrupted by a knock on the door just as Harry's hand touched the handle to the bathroom door. Harry turned around and opened the door to find his master. Voldemort did not look like he had slept much and his clothes were not the normal 'perfect and pressed' that Harry was used to seeing.

"Is there something wrong sir?" Harry asked, concerned.

"I'm fine Harry, just letting you know that you are free from lessons today, but there will be a meeting later. Be prepared, for big things will soon happen." Voldemort said, a grin forming on his fatigued face.

"Alright, thanks Mr. Riddle. I will see you later then. Maybe you should rest?"

" I am fine Harry. Sleeping can be done later. You don't look so well rested yourself so maybe _you _should rest."

"Point taken…have a good morning sir."

Voldemort began to walk away but stopped.

"Harry." The older man called out.

"Yes sir?"

"Death is a part of life, do not fear it nor loathe it. In the end we will all be behind the veil."

Harry paused for a moment before replying, "Then why do we live?"

"To be ready for death. Of course then there is the leading of preparation. I cannot leave this world in such a state where all will become lost to the appreciation of death. I will let you in on a little secret. The whole pureblood thing is bullshit. They just happen to be the most easily manipulated people and the most akin to staying together. I only allow the reckless killing to keep them insane enough to follow, not to mention it's a good stress reliever. Taking over the world never was an easy task, but it can be done. With each chip of the structure, it will become perfect."

With that, Voldemort left and Harry decided the bed seemed much more comfortable at the moment, but not before he could find a bottle of Dreamless Sleep.

"Chanceux!" Harry called.

"Yes Mr. Potter?"

"Bring me a dose of Dreamless Sleep." Harry ordered.

"Yes Mr. Potter."

Surprisingly it took her a full five minutes to retrieve it so in the meantime Harry took a moment to reflect upon the Dark Lord's words. The man certainly thought he was in the right and probably meant to rid of the corrupted Ministry and replace it, but there was one flaw in his thinking, and it would grow and bring the man into disaster.

Using the analogy the man gave, Harry thought about the pieces that would be chipped off. Where would they go? Obviously they would remain in the background somewhere while the ideal perfection would be made in the eye of the beholder. Even if Voldemort did succeed in making this 'statue', it would fall due to all the chips and most likely Fate, since she never let power stay on Earth in one spot for too long. Like the Romans and the Greeks, he too would fall. Especially with the rash manner he took things.

Chanceux finally returned and she handed the vial to Harry without comment and disappeared. Harry took a dosage and collapsed back in his bed, glad for a chance to catch up on sleep.

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There was a knock followed by a series of poundings at Harry's door before it was forced open by a seething dark lord. Voldemort then proceeded to stalk to Harry's bedroom to find the teen still in bed undisturbed by his ravings.

"GET UP! IT'S LUNCH FOR MERLINS SAKE!"

There was no response or movement.

Voldemort ripped off the bedcovers and dragged Harry off the bed onto the floor. Harry shifted a bit to get himself comfortable and went promptly back to a deep sleep. Voldemort glared at the still form and summoned a pitcher of cold water and poured it on the teen's head. There still wasn't an inch of movement. Fully frustrated, Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse on the sleeping form. Harry twitched in his sleep slightly, but it could be due to his freezing skin.

"Damn…it's no fun if they don't scream." Voldemort said, exasperated.

Voldemort removed the curse from the boy and decided to leave him to starve and turned around to leave when sounds of waking finally occurred. He looked back at the form and watched him stretch, reach over to grasp at an imaginary object, stop in confusion, and stare back at the blurry black man standing over him. He continued to stare at the blur for a few moments until recognition finally hit.

"Hello Mr. Riddle!" Harry said, all substance of sleep vanished.

Voldemort only glared back at the chipper hello.

"Hmmm…would you happen to know how I ended up on the floor? And wet?" Harry asked, suspicion seeping in.

"Yes, I would Harry. Those would be my attempts to bring you back from the dead."

"Wow…didn't think Dreamless Sleep did that to me. Interesting."

"Dreamless Sleep...yes, I think I remember Chanceux babbling on about you wanting a dose. How odd that it would have such an effect on you."

Have gave a vague 'hmm' in response and attempted to pull himself off the floor. After stumbling a couple times he made it back to his bed and rolled over.

"Potter…lunch. Now."

"Damn…alright lemme at least get dressed. I will be down in a moment."

"You have five minutes; no more. I will be timing you."

Voldemort stalked off in a huff and only hoped that time would fly by faster so he could at least kill something, but even more exigent on his list of ways to expel frustration was good ole' torture. Trying to keep his temper under control, he quietly took a seat at the dinner table and ardently waited for his charge to appear.

Harry arrived in good time, only four minutes and twenty three seconds, and sat down in front of his master. Lunch quickly appeared and both dug in enthusiastically, leaving the conversation silent until both were sated. When the last bite of fish was swallowed, the plates disappeared, and Voldemort chose to elaborate on the day's events.

"Harry, tonight is of course a meeting, and you will be going to this one. I have also yet to teach you how to Apparate, but I am sure you will be able to learn quickly. I will explain it to you now, but I do suggest you put off practicing until I or someone else skilled enough is there to correct any mishaps that may occur.

"Alright."

"Its really quite simple. Just picture exactly where you want to be, concentrate on it, and let yourself go, or, as they would have taught you at Hogwarts, Destination, Determination, and Deliberation." Voldemort explained.

"Such a short explanation for a seemingly complicated thing."

"Students seem to be filled with distractions." Voldemort

"I see...guess it's a good thing I don't have anything to worry about except for getting myself killed, which is perfectly normal in this life."

Voldemort chuckled lightly at this and took a sip from his teacup.

"We will start either after the meeting, or more likely, in the morning. For now just prepare for the meeting that will take place in a few hours here. You will also remember I will not tolerate arguments or fights of any sort at meetings. I really do hate being interrupted with mindless squabble. As for everything else I am sure you have seen enough meetings in your head to know what to do."

Voldemort flashed a disturbing smirk and rose from the table.

"Well, I have thing's to get ready. When I call just use this portkey to get to the meeting. Password is 'Morsmordre'."

Voldemort set a small silver thimble on the table and left the room with a grace that only the most evil wizard of the ages could produce. Harry stared at the thimble a moment before pocketing it, pushing the symbolic thoughts out of his head. At this moment, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, melded into the shell, a shell created purely out of necessity, and was forever changed into something much worse. Harry Potter was the Man-Who-Killed.

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Harry sat on his bed patiently, already in his Death Eater costume, white mask on the bed next to him, waiting for what was inevitable. The strange fact of Harry's sitting was the absolute stillness of it. There were no nervous gestures, no signs of defeat, not even restlessness. All that showed on Harry was absolute serenity and the profound absence of emotion.

When his clock struck exactly 6:50 in the afternoon, his left arm sharply burned and without even a twitch he dug the thimble out of his pocket, placed his mask, stood calmly beside his bed, and spoke 'morsmordre'. Harry felt the all too familiar tug at his navel and was whisked away.

Harry appeared at the meeting place and took in the sight of his brethren apparating in rapidly around the room. Voldemort himself hadn't appeared yet and the ornate chair on the raised dais was empty. There was quiet chatter among the room between friends, but none seemed to seek out anyone special. Harry simply watched from afar and was paid no mind. After a few minutes the group began to filtrate into a semi-organized congealment of curved lines. When Voldemort finally appeared not a sound was made and the stillness of the bodies gave an eerie statue like appeal.

Voldemort grandly sat on his throne and, in unison, the sea of Death Eaters kneeled in respect of their lord.

"Rise my loyal Death Eaters for tonight I give news! The time has come to strike upon those that go against us. In six days time we will hit Hogwarts."

A cheer arose from the group and Harry cheered right along with them. As Voldemort began to speak again silence beckoned on them, and their attention strongly affixed on the pale lord.

"For those with children at Hogwarts, tell them to seek shelter inside the school. Take care not to kill any students unless they directly join the fight. They are our future after all. Kill the Aurors, Professors, and especially Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. I suggest you all stay out of Dumbledore's way and leave the old man to me. There is a Quidditch match scheduled that day so all will be there in the open. Bring a broom to eliminate their advantage of the stands. We shall apparate onto the edge of the wards at precisely 11:30 AM. I will break the ground wards while a large formation approaches the game under an invisibility charm. The leader will make himself known and then the rest of you will appear. Attack the teachers stand first and keep attacking them until the Aurors arrive. Take as many as you can out. It is important they die. Once we get control, I shall give the signal to herd the students into the Great Hall. I will then rearrange the wards and take complete control of Hogwarts. I will contact you individually for positions in the raid and other special tasks. Meeting adjourned."

With that, everyone quickly disappeared and all that was left was Voldemort and Harry.

"Mr. Potter, you will lead the brooms onto the Quidditch Pitch during the game. As soon as the rest appear I want you to fall back and blend in with the rest. You shall not wear your mask during the raid."

"Yes my lord."

"Good, now portkey back—same password."

Harry took out the thimble from his pocket again and spoke the password and was immediately transported back to the manor.

Voldemort then called out to a few of his specific minions through their marks and they quickly appeared. Among the group were Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Black, Antonin Dolohov, Nott, Jugson, Rabastan Lestrange, Mulciber, and Augustus Rookwood.

"Bellatrix, I want you to keep an eye on Potter in the battle, I want him kept alive. He will be in the lead of the first strike, but will pull back when the rest appear."

"Yes my lord. I will keep him safe."

"You may go Bellatrix."

Bellatrix bowed her head in respect and apparated with a crack.

"As for the rest of you, I have a special mission for you. The attack on Hogwarts is a diversion and I won't be horribly disappointed if I don't take over it yet, I will in time though. As for you, you will be leading an attack on the Ministry. Fenrir and a large group of Day Walkers will give you support. This is an assassination mission. I want Cornelius Fudge, Amelia Bones, Amos Diggory, Mafalda Hopkirk, and Rufus Scrimgeour, providing he does not go to Hogwarts, dead. There will be no exceptions. I want each and every one of them deceased or I will be most displeased. Now, you will attack the Ministry at noon to give the Aurors enough time to all get to Hogwarts and leave the Ministry unprotected. Lucius, I appoint you leader, and as soon as you are finished I want you to apparate to me. The rest of you will get out of the Ministry and apparate to headquarters." Voldemort explained.

A chorus of "Yes my lord, it will be done." Rang out among them and they then proceeded with a bow.

"Dismissed."

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The next few days flew by quickly and Harry did indeed learn how to apparate. Anytime Harry wasn't being taught, usually do to Voldemort's meetings with certain members, Harry read up on curses, hexes, and how to defend them. It wasn't that Harry didn't remember them, but it did put him more into the mindset of a dangerous wizard. Harry only splinched himself once during the practices and in four and a half days time he was successful in passing his mock apparation test.

It was early Saturday morning when the green orbs opened. He stared at the ceiling and studied the strange patterns that marred the surface. Thoughts of life drifted into his mind and he wondered who he even was anymore. He was certainly not the Hogwarts student, but was he a Death Eater? A killer, yes, but was he one of Voldemort's demons? Was he truly turning into the thing he had sworn to fight against? Yes, he had joined for only his own survival and to get a good chance to kill Voldemort for good, but what about who he was in-between the time of now and what he would be when once again he became the hero? Of course he could never be who he once was, but could a killer be anything other than a killer? What would Harry do for the rest of his life? What was there to really live for after all this?

_Eh, what does it matter? As long the bastard dies I will be content. Though it seems my reasoning has changed. I can't really hate him for being a mass murderer. How do you blame someone for trying to change the world into something better? He really did believe it was the right way and he doesn't view it as necessarily wrong. I can even agree with some of his views, but he is going too far. One must accept that not everything can be perfect or fair. That's life. Perfection just can't be obtained and that is his downfall. I guess my only reasons to kill him is for my parents and to stop the bloodshed. At least he can die knowing he did cause a change and one hopefully for the better in the end of things._

Harry got out of bed and took a long relaxing bath to calm the slight nervousness he felt of the upcoming battle. Harry did not like being in the front so much, but it would not be long. It was also the fact that he would be seeing his friends again not to mention Dumbledore. It was just a bit much. Harry was used to the confinement to Riddle Manor and the change in routine was unsettling—much like lessons with Bellatrix.

Harry dressed in his battle gear, which consisted of a light, but strong leather-like armour under his Death Eater robes, wand holster, boot knife, and dragon hide boots spelled to make the wearer's footsteps absolutely silent. Harry ran down to breakfast at 8:30 and ate in silence. The Dark Lord wasn't present, but that did not worry Harry. Not having much to do, Harry went back to his room and waited.

Time passed quickly when finally, at 11 o'clock, Harry felt his mark burn. He grabbed his new firebolt and apparated to Lord Voldemort.

Harry, along with the rest of the Death Eaters in the Hogwarts group, appeared at the meeting place where they were arranged by their lord into formations for the fight. Further instructions of how to fly and little details of strategy were given. Voldemort then instructed everyone to charm themselves invisible and at exactly 11:30 am, everyone apparated simultaneously to their destination.

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_-Hogwarts-_

It was a typical Quidditch match at Hogwarts with the seas of red and green opposite of each other in the stands. It was a match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, Slytherin being the choice favorite for once. It seemed their loosing streak of the Quidditch Cup would finally end this year and they would take it home.

"Score again for Slytherin bringing it to 90:10 and look! Malfoy has spotted the snitch!" the commentator shouted as Malfoy made an upward streak towards the glittering ball of gold. Ginny was too far away to be able to catch him and it was sure to be a Slytherin win. Draco reached out towards the snitch and was about to take a swipe at it when it suddenly disappeared in front of his hand.

A dark figure emerged in the area where the snitch just lain and in his hand was the struggling snitch. The crowd became deathly silent as the figure flew around for a moment before speaking out loud and clear.

"Sorry Draco, but Voldemort wins, 150 to 90 to 10." Harry quipped and not a moment later the legion of Death Eaters appeared around him, the empty space became a sea of black shouting red and green spells towards the teacher's stand.

Dumbledore immediately began fighting back the spells while at the same time shouting for the students to get inside. Absolute chaos ensued as the students trickled down to the ground floor and the Quidditch teams fled to safety of the ground. The battle of the teachers went on for a good ten minutes before the Aurors arrived on the ground below. The Death Eaters quickly made a beeline for the ground and all out war was made. Many of the older students on the side of light stayed to fight while the rest moved towards the castle. Voldemort had already started on taking over the wards to castle and began to close off all the rooms besides the Great Hall, bringing any who entered into a stone prison.

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_-Ministry of Magic-_

The clock chimed twelve times and a large group of menacing looking Daywalkers led by seven of Voldemort's best and the great werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, arrived at the Ministry of Magic. They stormed the gates and immediately started firing curses at officials. Groups split off to execute the less guarded wizards on the list while Lucius and Fenrir headed to the Minister's office. They arrived to a cowering Percy Weasley and stuttering Cornelius Fudge.

Lucius proudly strutted up to the desk and smirked at the Minister while Fenrir proceeded to rip out Percy's throat with his teeth, blood splattering on the front of their robes; screams echoing off the walls. Cornelius' eyes grew to an expanded range as he stared at the lifeless body in the arms of Fenrir Greyback. The werewolf's eyes were glowing a brilliant yellow from the pleasure of the kill, and the Minister only shook more, words unable to form in his constricted throat.

"Well, it seems your assistant has met an interesting end, though yours will be more tasteful in a sense." Lucius casually stated.

In the background a high pitched cackle could be heard from the werewolf as even in human form he was much more of a beast than something so mundane. Cornelius' eyes traveled to Lucius' face and then back to the scene behind him and then once more darted to the silver molted eyes.

"Lu-luci-us? Wh-why are-" the Minister stuttered.

Cornelius Fudge was stopped mid-sentence when the clear tone of 'Avada Kedavra' came from Lucius's lips and the green light extinguished his life.

Lucius and Fenrir then left the office and returned to the Atrium along with the Daywalkers that had accompanied them down.

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In the office of Amelia Bones, a stifled scream escaped the mouth of the victim as fangs pierced her skin, a wash of surreal pleasure washing over until darkness claimed her. The Daywalker then licked his lips in satisfaction and took in his comrades' features as they glowed in youthful appreciation of the after-feed of the Aurors that had tried to stop them.

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Rookwood, along with Jugson, Rabastan Lestrange, Mulciber, and Nott quickly made haste towards their target, Mafalda Hopkirk, killing any resistance that came upon their way. They took the stairs down to floor where her office was located and blasted the door down. A few other ministry workers were hiding in the room, wands held like lifelines, waiting for whatever impending doom would take them. The officials attempted to timidly fight back, but were easily extinguished by the highly experienced Death Eaters. All was left was the shaking woman who held her wand out sprouting idle threats and was taken down by Mulciber.

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The last team finally arrived back up to the Atrium in the Ministry and reported an affirmative to the deaths of all on the list, but the mysterious Head of the Auror department.

"He must be at Hogwarts then, if he is not here. Either way, he will die soon. The Dark Lord will make sure of that. Death Eaters shall apparate to headquarters while everyone else goes back to wherever they came from. I will be reporting to the Dark Lord. Move out." Lucius explained.

Pops of apparation could be heard along with some simply choosing to walk out. The Ministry could be said to be under new management and the Dark Lord would make sure that it was his side that did. All the arrangements had already been made for replacing the killed officials and would be put into effect in the next twenty-four hours.

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_-Hogwarts-_

The way they moved could be considered a dance. This was dueling on a level beyond what most would expect. Magic was used to its fullest extent. Where most people just used curses and hexes, the two oldest men on the field used all aspects ranging widely from simple charms to high quality transfiguration. What was even more interesting was the conversation, though it was short and consisted of seemingly simple boasts and barbs.

In-between another attack Voldemort finally began the conversation due to, most likely at least, over-inflation of his ego.

"Harry is an excellent Death Eater you know. Has such finesse." Voldemort said while preparing for his return assault.

Deflecting the ice shard with a transfigured shield Dumbledore replied, "His arrogance will kill him, Tom. Just like every other one of your puppets."

Voldemort sent off the Killing Curse, which Dumbledore dodged, and shot back, "And arrogance is the same as old age. So I shall be hoping for an early Christmas present this year."

Dumbledore sent back a series of hexes and forced the Dark Lord to jump about, trying to wear his stamina down.

"And you shall receive it in the Veil."

At that moment Lucius popped a short ways away from Voldemort and called out, "It has been done my lord."

Not taking his eyes off the headmaster he gave a satisfied smirk as he blocked Dumbledore's next attack and went into a defensive position.

"Well, well, look at the time. Have fun with the owls old man." Voldemort quipped.

Dumbledore's eyes showed a clouded confusion as Voldemort apparated away, his Death Eaters quickly following suit.

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Harry fell behind when the others appeared, like he had been told, and sent off curses towards the teacher's stands. Unfortunately Dumbledore does hire mostly competent people for the posts at Hogwarts and they were all working together to build shields. Harry shot back random spells, knowing that it was just the keep them busy until the Aurors came, the wizards that really needed to be exterminated.

Unknown to the young Death Eater, Bellatrix was indeed keeping a close eye on him, noticing that he wasn't wasting his energy on a useless effort, though the shields did flicker occasionally. The Death Eaters could break the shields in time, but to their ire they were ordered to focus on the Aurors once they arrived.

When the Aurors did arrive Harry immediately changed his focus to the militarily robed wizards and managed to take down two unprepared Aurors that were probably new to the true art of war. He whizzed down to the ground and quickly shrunk and pocketed his broom. The battle began in earnest and just like the wars of old; it was every man for himself.

Harry fought his way through Aurors with quick, but gruesome curses until the battles became more one on one in the large area. Harry noted that many of the students fighting alongside the teachers and Aurors used to be in the DA and he felt a small pang of elation towards them. The internal defenses enraged by the positive feeling defected against it, suddenly calling the students fools for getting involved, and a strange calm overcame Harry, even though his heartbeat quickened excitedly. Moving forward, he fired a killing curse in the back of an Auror (dear old Rufus) and the Death Eater who was attacking him moved on to another part of the field, choosing to ignore the black haired girl that had been fighting with him. The girl stared at Harry with wide eyes, recognition filing in. The dark teen predatorily came towards her, a vindictive smirk upon his face.

"Harry, why are you doing this?" Cho Chang called out, terror maiming her eyes.

"Sectumsempra!" he hissed at her, eyes glowing a deranged green.

A deep gash marred her chest, tilted precisely to puncture her right lung. She dropped her wand in shock and fell to her knees struggling to breathe. He glided closer to her form and stopped in front of her, wand held out steadily.

He did not speak the next curse outloud, but it did serve its purpose none-the-less. Harry slowly squeezed the punctured lung and watched as her breath hitched and her eyes bugged. Harry squeezed until the lung collapsed and her body hit the ground a not a moment later.

"NO!" a boy yelled out, bringing Harry out of his bloodlust.

Glancing his eyes toward the youngest Weasley boy, he simply smiled and without averting his eyes away from the redhead's he shot a green light at Cho Chang, ending her life.

Ronald Weasley was a brave child, just as his house describes him, and he of course foolishly ran towards Harry, also another trait his house was prone to, and was quickly met with a full body bind.

"Always not thinking I see. How you managed to survive so far eludes me, but don't worry, death will come for you soon enough." Harry said, and then wondered why he was wasting time making silly speeches when his opponent could already be dead.

Before Harry could further those thoughts his mark fiercely burned and he quickly sent a rather nasty and potentially lethal version of a Furnunculus hex in spite as he apparated to his master. Ron only stared at the spot where his old friend had stood and was painfully reminded that he was indeed, still alive.

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AN: Ta da! I highly appreciate all the reviews I have gotten, good and bad, and I am sorry about the long wait. I totally meant to update Tuesday night, but I wanted my beta to look at it. Just how it is. Now, -marks off a few characters on her list to kill- Well, that will be all the death of actual somewhat major characters for a bit…its gonna be hard to write the big future one. -sniffles- Also the next chapter name will be held secret, its too revealing. Though do take note of the 2 dream instances.

Skuld's Sentaro4: Oh no, I MUST break his mind! Bwahahahaha! Hopefully you got the Lily reference. Evil I know…I really did hate to do it, but Bella felt like being vindictive (well, it was more due to her frustrations with herself)

Sekikage: Yup, it tis, Harry wont hate her so much after this next chapter, but I do admit it is a bit difficult to get them shipped up. As for Harry going back to the light…well, it ain't happening, at least not in the sense of going to Dumbles and playing spy. Wont say more on that.

hiro himoira: yes, he does quite hate it as we see in the HBP, but he only lets Harry call him that. Im not going to change it, and its just a title. Voldie is of course a bit different from the scenes we have seen him in, but I try not to over do it. I simply like to bring out that I think everyone has a bit of a humane side, even if its pins and needles to bring it out.

Raven: you reviewed chapter 5 saying I forgot to document my "Wicked" reference. Sorry to seem daft, but what are you talking about? A movie? Song? If it is indeed from a movie or something similar it was a complete coincidence.

Also big thanks to my other reviewers: Deadwilder, ApocSM, Zevrillion, Lady Jillyan Malfoy-Potter, CartmanLover, SUFERCHICK123876bliss4life, Sign Aurora Sciliitaigo, Cail Jol, Ferdia, and gabichicaloca

And of course my wonderful beta Modern Day Zarcon, and I call for everyone to read her fic Inner Strength (under her other ffn name A. Muggle). The ID is 2308516, which by the way dear would be nice if you updated. -grin-


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